Chasing Away Shadows
by InnocentGuilt
Summary: Xander wants to be with his friends after an altercation with his father leaves him under the watchful eye of Giles. So they trek off to L.A. with Willow in tow to stay with the Summers' women and their eccentric live-in Englishman. Spander, WIP, slash
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is such an overdone idea, I don't even know why I'm going on with this! But as I already have 21 chapters, written and am actually still pleased with the idea, I figure why the heck not?

This is a human AU. Everyone is human in this story, because I have a fascination with making normal people into super humans and super humans into normal people. I've yet to truly understand why, but I usually don't argue with the voices in my head.

SO! Like I said, human AU, will have slash of the Spander variety. All other's are kind of up in the air at this point in time, although it's just a question as to how far I explore their relationships, not really if they'll have one or who they'll have one with. But Spander is my point of focus, so that's the only one I'll mention as of now. This will also have the Scoobies be underage, as well as having hints and sometimes not so hinty underage drinking and intercourse. This story will allude to a plethora of things, including gay-bashing, child-abuse of the mental and physical kind, crude terminology, and other somewhat uncomfortable situations.

I'm posting the first five chapters today, but as I am a full time student and employee, I will only be posting one chapter every two weeks. It could be as much as one per week, but we'll have to see how it goes as my semester goes on.

Standard disclaimer (which I will only be posting in this chapter, but will go for all chapters henceforth): I do not own any of the recognizable characters. They belong to whole bunches of people who have more entertaining jobs and daily lives that I, myself, do. Don't sue. I have no money!

x.x.x

The highway was not a place for the Citroen. Giles' poor little old car could do seventy for about ten seconds before it began emitting a high pitched squealing sound and the air conditioner started pouring in the smell of skunk entrails, as it had so delicately been put by a certain young man. It would do fine at sixty, but after a while all of Giles' gauges would begin to kind of go haywire and the needles would begin floating around from F to E or C to H without any compunction. Fifty-five was usually a nice speed for the old girl, be when the speed limit was sixty-five it tended to gather quite a few American signings that were not necessarily appropriate.

However the highway, no matter what speed one chose, was the fastest way to Los Angeles, which was currently the destination of one librarian, his ward, and his most frequent visitor. So signing aside, Giles puttered along quite comfortably, although the music left much to be desired. It had been set on some horrendous country station, and for the last two hours he had submitted his ears to the torture of listening about tractors, hunting, and—he shuddered at the thought—fishing.

The children had been quiet for the last hour, if one ignored the snuffling coming from the back seat, or the slurps of his passenger drinking down her fourth highly caffeinated, highly sugared beverage out of a ghastly green can. She looked, to be completely candid, like an addict as she upended the aluminum to get the very last drop. She then began fiddling with the can itself twirling it in her little fingers anxiously, twisting the tab before yanking it off to drop it into the bottom of the can, thusly creating a maraca of sorts to add a tinny, arrhythmic flow to join the chorus about 'fishing in the dark.'

That, blissfully, was discarded after a small snort from the backseat. She put the can in their makeshift garbage bag to join its_ other_ fallen comrades. Of course, her musical aspirations were traded for finger twisting.

"Thanks for letting me come with you, Giles. Are you sure it's not a problem?" Willow asked, her wide green eyes staring worriedly at him as he continued at his sedate place.

With a slight smile, he told her, "It's hardly a problem, Willow, and even if it were, now would most definitely be an inappropriate time to bring it up. We're over halfway to Los Angeles."

"Oh. Oh yeah. That makes sense. It's not like you could turn around and drop me off at home. Well, I mean, you could, but that would waste gas and time and soda, not that you drink soda…" The finger twisted morphed into hand wringing and she looked at the road, the mile markers, the written directions on a small little paper in her lap.

"Is something wrong?" he asked after a few moments of watching her fidget. She was usually restless, constant movement, constant thinking, constant energy, but it didn't usually hold this air, this anxiety.

"I'm nervous," she stated obviously, her wide green eyes on him again and her lips rubbing together and hands wringing, wringing, wringing.

He turned that over in his head, trying to deduce which of the several things she could be nervous about. There were so many these days. Life was so much different now. In March everything had been simple. For him, he would get up, have a cup of Earl Grey, go to the library, go home. Life, decidedly, wasn't so simple anymore to put it briefly, and he held no assumptions that her life hadn't been affected by the situation. He decided that make perhaps the easiest conclusion."To see Buffy?"

"Sort of. More of Buffy seeing us." She grimaced at her own words, before expounding on her last statement. "We haven't seen each other since March and so much has happened since then…"

She looked in the backseat and Giles followed her gaze through the rearview mirror. In the backseat, curled and looking remarkably comfortable for being a gangly, 5'10" young man stuffed in such a tiny space, was Xander, sleeping. He looked surprisingly peaceful for a child who less than two months ago had suffered four fractured ribs, a spiral fracture to his left arm, a concussion, as well as a multitude of scrapes and bruises. All from the hands of his repulsive father. All over a small matter of sexuality.

Memories washed over Giles as he peeled his eyes away from the young man resting—actually resting—in the back. He didn't like to think about it, didn't like the memories of Xander as he fell trying to grab onto a statue for stability, nor did he like to remember the cry of pain not because he landed on his mangled, swollen arm but because he broke the statue, or even worse than both of those the sight of him in the hospital bed, looking small and sad as Giles had to coax the events of the previous night so that the police could properly handle the case.

The fact that he still had a cast on his left arm, unsigned by anyone at Xander's request, still caused a twinge in his chest.

"I can't say that I don't share some of your apprehension," he murmured to her. "However, I don't believe it will be as bad as either of us imagines." He watched the road, saw a sign proclaiming Los Angeles to be only ten miles closer than it was the last time. It would be about two hours more, perhaps a little longer, since the Citroen wouldn't do anything above fifty-five.

The song on the radio switched, proclaiming cherishment in a crowing Midwestern accent.

Willow cracked open another can of soda, taking large pulls from it as if to calm her nerves rather than further excite them. Giles calculated he would have to pull over to a rest area within the next thirty minutes so she could relieve herself.

In the back, Xander twitched, his fingers wiggling beneath the blank cast that ran from knuckles to elbow. Perhaps another night terror in the making. Perhaps nothing more than his hair flopping against his forehead. Giles never really knew.

The librarian repressed the urge to sigh, definitely repressed the growing urge to polish his lenses. It would be quite a summer this one, world changing and life altering.


	2. Chapter 2

Life in the Summers' household used to be simple. It really did. There had been a father, mother, older daughter, younger daughter and it had all made sense. Then the father ran off with another woman, and forgot the other three women already in his life, except to mail a check now and then, and life got a little complicated. Rules shifted, responsibilities were reshuffled, head of household was always teetering on the precipice and guided by who was PMSing harder.

And what threw all of this off kilter?

Spike. William Pratt. Pain. In. The. Ass!

He had sauntered into their lives when Buffy was twelve at the Summers' quasi-annual family reunion. Even then, the guy had been weird. He dressed in some sort of retro goth attire and had a mouth that would make sailors blush. He hadn't been her favorite person even then, although Dawn had been all over him and Joyce was practically adopting him after the first hour. Even after the divorce, when she really didn't talk to many of dad's family the one person she did habitually keep in contact with was Spike. When she found out where he was going to be going to college…

Well, the fourth room that had previously been a storage area for some of the museum's lesser appreciated what-nots had been cleared out and made into a fourth bedroom, and Buffy's sanity had been put up for sale.

And in an effort to save her friend's sanity, thin and brittle as it must be after March's devastation, she was trying to keep her friends as far away from Spike as she could.

"So," she told her mother as she juiced an orange. "We'll put Dawnie in your room. Giles and Xander can sleep in her room, and Willow will sleep in mine."

Joyce from behind her hummed. "There's not going to be enough room in Dawn's room for two people. We know it's not clean enough to put an air mattress down on the floor." The second comment had a warning edge to it, meant for the twelve year old who had just pranced into the room and taken the juice Buffy had just made.

"I'll clean it tomorrow mom, promise," she said flippantly. Buffy wouldn't be surprised if Dawn had no clue what they were speaking about, but only said that to postpone a lecture. She rolled her eyes and ground another orange half into juice.

Joyce continued on after a derisive snort. "I was thinking we'll put Mr. Giles in Dawn's room. We'll put Xander on the couch down here, and Willow can sleep with you."

Buffy stopped mid-juice, her brows reaching for her hairline. "Xander, sleep on the couch? Mom, he has a broken arm! He's in a cast. You can't expect him to sleep on a couch! It's completely uncool!"

Joyce stopped stirring pancake batter, with a sharp intake of breath. She turned around, a completely repentant look on her face. "Oh, that's right. Oh, why do I keep forgetting that? I'm sorry, honey. You know I would never do that to Xander, or any of your friends." Buffy's pout didn't go completely away, but her mother continued on lifting her hands and pressing them together as she talked. "Okay, so here's what we'll do." Buffy felt a sense of foreboding. "We'll ask Spike to pull out the trundle from his bed, and Xander will bunk with Spike."

Which foiled all of her plans on keeping her friends away from the blond menace.

Thinking quick, Buffy said, "Or we could put Xander in Dawn's room and ask Giles to sleep on the couch."

Joyce rolled her eyes, dropping her hands down to her side as she gave Buffy and exasperated glare. "No one should have to sleep on the couch if we can offer them a bed," she said as if that was that.

"You were going to put Xander on the couch!" Her mother sighed. "Why don't we put Xander in my room with Willow and I? My bed's big enough for the three of us and Xander isn't going to do anything to set off your mommy-no-no senses…" She trailed off at Joyce's look.

"I don't think so," she said, in her version of a 'no-nonsense' tone. "Spike won't mind sharing his room."

Joyce turned back to the pancake batter, mixing it with an air of finality around her slim form. Buffy sulked for a few moments longer, trying to think of something she could say so that Xander didn't have to be subjected to the terror that was her unwanted houseguest. When she could think of nothing immediately she went back to the juicer, coming up short as she noticed that the juice she had made was missing.

"Dawn!" she huffed, looking at her little sister who held the glass with smug satisfaction. "Can I make some juice for myself without your sticky fingers stealing it from me?"

Dawn shrugged. "You didn't look that interested in it. I didn't want it to_ spoil_."

Buffy glared and grumbled turning towards the fridge to grab the milk. At least she didn't have to milk the cow for that.

As she poured her glass, she glanced at the clock on the stove. It was nine-forty. When she had spoken to Willow last night, she had said they would be leaving Sunnydale at about noon. It would be quite some time before they arrived at four, in which time she may just be able to convince her mother that no one should have to experience the nightmare that was Spike so up close and personal. Maybe she could convince Spike that he didn't want to share his room for the summer, which she knew already wouldn't happen. The moment her mother asked Spike for something, he would destroy entire armies to make sure she had it, and that was nothing compared to what he would do for Dawn.

She should probably just apologize for any sanity Xander lost over the summer as soon they arrived.


	3. Chapter 3

Xander watched as the house came into view. He had never seen it before, usually Buffy and Dawn came to visit Sunnydale, but somehow he knew it belonged to the Summers' women. He drummed his fingers against his cast, white and only a little stained despite the fact he had had it for a month now.

They had woken him about an hour and a half ago, startling him from a dream he hadn't even remembered the moment he opened his eyes. It had taken him a moment to realize where he was and who he was with. Didn't wake so well when he was touched, often found himself bolting away from the hand that had woken him. Giles was usually good about calling his name to coax him out of sleep, but Willow was another case. He remembered he had once fallen asleep in history and she had tried to jostle him awake. He fell out of his sleep, proclaiming, 'I didn't mean to!' The class had laughed at him. Willow had looked horror-stricken.

After a quick run into a convenience store, and a rather amusing potty-dance from Willow as she hopped and skipped inside, his best friend had hustled into the backseat and he had taken watch in the passenger seat next to his guardian. The hour and a half on the road had been quiet. Xander made jokes about the billboard signs, and making faces out of the signs for curves and construction.

It was sometimes sad how easy it was to pretend like nothing happened, how easy it was to just glance over the fact that his arms was still broken, and his ribs had been fractured, and that his father had beaten him until his mother had come down to yell at him, not because her husband was kicking the daylights out of her son. No, because her husband had woke her. It was easy to just pretend like these last two months had been his life forever.

Selective-amnesia-boy, that should be his title.

As the car pulled up along the curb, and Giles seemed to pull a never-ending amount of levers and buttons, Dawn came shooting out of the house, looking eons older than she had last time Xander had seen her in February. She crashed into Willow, who had scrambled out of the backseat to meet the younger girl. Giles and Xander stayed in the car for a moment or two, as Joyce came out of the front door, only pausing to yell back into the house, Xander guessed calling for Buffy.

"It'll be alright, you know," Giles said quietly.

Xander nodded, as Joyce came down to join Dawn in her greetings. "Of course it will, G-man." He tossed a flippant smile over his shoulder, trying to look like his gut wasn't churning with anxiousness, fear, and guilt. It was just Buffy and her family, he reminded himself. Buffy and her family who had never known his father hit him, that his mom would too if he said the wrong thing to her in the wrong mood. No one had known. Some part of him suspected that Willow might have had her doubts and concerns, but he had hidden it. Always hidden it.

He knew Giles felt bad for never having figured it out sooner, because since he had come to live with the librarian, Giles had never protested to being called 'G-man.' However, the older man sighed from behind him, and he could practically hear him wiping his glasses. "Perhaps you should exit the car then…before they haul you out with bodily force."

He nodded. "Yeah. Okay, here I go. This is me going…" He grabbed the door handle, but hesitated.

"It'll be different," Giles said after a few moments when Xander didn't go, despite him saying that he was. "But it has to be. Things have changed and it may very well take them a few days to get used to the alterations."

He almost wanted to gripe that he didn't want it to be different. He wanted it to be the same, for everyone to just glance over the fact that he wasn't the same, that he had a cast, or that if he was woken he would just as quickly smack his head against the wall as he would scream in a fit of terror and disorientation.

"I'll get out first," Giles said, opening his door. By then Buffy had joined Dawn and Joyce, and a young man in a black leather duster stood on the porch with a cigarette hanging from his lips and his arms crossed over his chest. He looked impressive and a little intimidating, but Xander swallowed against his own discomfort as Giles waited with his door open for him to make his move.

He pushed his door open, levering himself out of the car, he braced himself as Dawn launched herself into his arm, screaming, "Xander!" He made sure to keep his casted arm out of her python-like embrace, but it proved to be almost useless since he stumbled back into the car with the force of her momentum.

"Dawn!" he heard Joyce and Buffy shout simultaneously, before Buffy continued, "Be careful with him!"

"Yeah, Dawnie, I'm all delicate and weak. The Xanman is not up to full strength."

She eased her grip but didn't let go, instead chuckling into his chest. When she finally did step back, he had but a moment to gasp a breath before he was pulled into Buffy's shockingly strong embrace.

"I missed you, Xander," she breathed in this shoulder. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

He somehow managed not to tense beneath her arms, chanting repeatedly in his mind what Giles had only just told him. 'It's going to be different. It's going to be different. It's going to be different.' He hugged his friend back until she stepped away from him with an effulgent smile that made her blue eyes glitter like the sea.

Giles was speaking with Joyce, close to the trunk of the junker Giles refused to give up. Dawn and Willow were heading into the house with bags in hand. When Buffy and Xander arrived at the back of the car, Buffy reached in and grabbed the two remaining bags with a quick, peppy, "I've got it covered, Xander." And then she flounced towards the house as well.

Xander followed behind after several long beats. "I can feel my manhood shrinking to microscopic sizes," he muttered to himself as he set off after Buffy. Luckily she hadn't heard, but it seemed to him as if the dark-clad blond had.

Of course, that was only if his amused smirk was anything to go by.


	4. Chapter 4

Spike stepped aside to let the younger man into his room, watching as the boy—Xander, Niblet had squealed as she catapulted herself into his arms—crossed the threshold cautiously, like there was some little bit of scariness tucked away under the bed. Spike resisted the urge to smirk. It wasn't like his room exactly screamed inviting to the 'norm' of society. Spike kinda liked his digs a bit darker, bit dimmer, and Joyce didn't mind how he decorated his space, long as he smoked outside.

"S'not much," he said, cataloguing the small, repressed jump that shook the whelp's shoulders. "But its home. 'S your bed, right there." He pointed to the popped up trundle pushed up against the opposite wall from his own bed that had some red sheets and two pillows piled on it. "I work at night," Spike continued, watching as the other gently set down his two duffle bags—which he had snatched up when Buffy hadn't been looking—on the mattress. "Don't mess with the telly. Got my shows set to record an' you won't want to be dealing with Niblet if we miss an episode of_ Passions_."

He nodded, having a seat on the mattress and taking in the room, like a caged animal would its surroundings. Spike wondered if it was such a good idea to have the poor whelp be away from his old watcher for any amount of time. He didn't particularly seem to be capable of much besides staring into space with a kicked-puppy look trapped in his eyes.

"Thanks, man," Xander said, finally, after he had finished looking over Spike's collection of band posters, pamphlets, and flyers.

Spike allowed the smirk to wash over his face. "Oh, so he does speak. Did wonder for a tic." The sharp glare he was gifted with was really a sight for sore eyes. After the initial meet and greet, the boy had seemed to slowly wind down, like someone forgot to twist the key in his back. Unless someone swept their gaze over him, asked him something flippant and hesitantly, all walking on eggshells around him, he just looked tired and a little lost. He didn't seem to have much to do with any emotion.

He supposed it wasn't without good reason. He had been home the day Joyce received a call from that Giles fellow. It had been one of the only times he had ever been allowed to smoke in the house and only because Joyce didn't want any of the Nosey Nelly's that were the neighbors to see her having a fag as well. He knew the other boy's father had nearly beaten the stuffing clean out of him. Still had a cast on his arm, clean save for a small red stain that looked like ketchup.

"Sorry I'm not your regular Chatty Cathy," he snipped, a bit of spark flaring up in him.

Spike liked it, liked the honey color that was suddenly visible in Xander's brown eyes. He pushed a little, always had enjoyed pushing his boundaries. "Wasn't even sure your vocal chords were in right workin' order. Thought we mighta had to revert to one blink 'yes,' two blinks 'no.'"

He rolled his eyes, but Spike could see the irritation warring against amusement, counted it as a win. "Not much to say to a stranger I just met, except bleach was last year's fashion faux pas."

Spike raised his eyebrow, hand running through yet un-gelled locks.

And then something happened. He just shut up and turned back to his duffle, not even opening the damn things but just fingering the zip. "Sorry," he said, not small or meek. Automatic reaction, something ingrained. "Mouth got ahead of me."

The blond snorted. "Hell, Whelp, I've heard worse from Niblet."

A look passing somewhere between incredulity at the idea of Dawn saying anything mean and annoyance at his new nickname crossed his face, but he didn't turn away from his bags, unzipping the first one slowly.

Spike could take a hint. "Well then, I'll leave you to it. Dinner's usually about six-thirty. Loo's two doors to the left of us if you want to powder your nose. Don't touch the telly," he reiterated, pointed his finger at him to get his point across.

"Yeah, no telly-touching. Got it," he agreed, but then shook his head, muttering under his breath. "That sounded so wrong."

Spike suppressed the urge to laugh and left the boy to his unpacking, hopping down the stairs toward the living room where Niblet would probably be watching some mind-numbing something while her sister settled Red into her room. When he arrived at the entrance though, it was that Giles fellow, Whelp's watcher. He stood with the cordless to his ear, speaking quietly without being secretive.

"Yes, I'll make sure of it. Next Friday…yes, Xander will be here, as will I. Of course, I've made arrangements with his psychologist…"

He had been turning in a slow lazy circle as he took in the pictures around the den. Spike made sure to take his leave before he was spotted. He made his way to the kitchen, smiling grandly at Joyce and Niblet. The table had been expanded to accommodate the guests in the house, chairs had been pulled away from the card table that usually hid behind the washer and drying in the garage. He took his place next to the young girl, mussing her hair as he went.

She gave him a mock-glare and huffed, fixing her hair prissily. "Were you nice to Xander?" she asked, with an air of teasing, but he could hear the underlying threat there. Niblet had a soft spot for the Whelp then.

He let a smirk crawl over his features. "Didn't bite him, if that's what you're askin'. Thought about it, but he looks a bit soft. Bit like one o' your stuffed bears."

He could hear Joyce muffle a small giggle, though Dawn didn't even try to. "That's Xander."

"Is he settling in okay?" Joyce asked, stirring something in one of her sauce pans. It's a good thing the Summers' women never had any want to go into the acting business; they were all flops at it. Joyce, trying for flippant, was practically oozing with the urge to go up there and make the boy's bed for him.

Spike nodded resolutely. "He's settlin' fine. Got a bit of spark in 'im, that one does."

From beside him Niblet grinned, happily and switched the topic to Red and Buffy and how they had said something about a mall. Spike listened with half an ear, only joined in when Niblet asked if he wanted to go, too.

Mostly his mind stayed on the young man upstairs.


	5. Chapter 5

The first thing on Xander's agenda, once he was well and sure Spike was downstairs, was to run over to the television and run his hands all over it with an admittedly child-like smugness and internal mantra of, 'I'm touching the T.V., nah nah nana nah!' However, when that impulse had been quenched, he was a little at a loss. The entire summer would be spent at Buffy's house in L.A. and Joyce had said that she had space for their things, so no one would be living out of a bag for the entire two months they would be there.

She didn't lie, either. At the end of his bed was a little chest of drawers where his clothes could go in, but for some reason he didn't want to actually put his clothes there. He made a long drawn out process, nearly thirty minutes worth, of putting his clothes into the chest, moving things around, deciding if he wanted his boxers and socks in the top or bottom drawer, before he pressed them all back into his bag. Instead of his clothing, he instead organized his comics into the first drawer, toiletries into the second, and in the bottom he put two of the Star Wars figurines he had somehow managed to squirrel away.

Han and Lando stared up at him with blank painted eyes as he shut the drawer.

His duffle bags he put under the trundle and when he made the bed he made sure to have the loose-fitting sheet drag the ground, just in case Joyce, or Buffy, hell, Willow came snooping around. He didn't want them to think…whatever it was they would think. Womanly and over-protective. They'd probably think he was making to hit the road in Giles' beat up piece of junk.

Dinner was done about the time he was finally finished making his bed, and by making his bed, he meant fluffing his pillows repeatedly to have a few more moments, and a few more, and a few more, where the girls weren't fawning all over him.

The call for dinner was like the final time he could press the snooze button, bittersweet and damning. If he missed this call, it would warrant a visit from Giles. Any other time it wouldn't really be a problem. He didn't really mind Giles' guidance, but here…he wasn't ready for that fragility yet, at all if he could get away with it, please.

So he went downstairs, stirring up the part of himself that really was happy to be here, because he really was. The only place left open would naturally be between Willow and Buffy. There was laughter and conversation as Xander took his seat and Joyce handed him a plate of spaghetti, but thankfully left him to gather his own sauce. He was half-way through his second scoop when he felt the stare, and strangely it wasn't from any of the women, or even his guardian.

He glanced up surreptitiously to find Spike, every bit the bleached menace that Buffy had said in their phone calls, staring at him with a quirked, scarred brow.

He wondered if perhaps he was breaching some unwritten British code by having more than one scoop of sauce, but after a covert glance and the blonde's plate, it seemed rather apparent that there was no such rule. He brought his brows up in question as he tried to return Spike's stare, but when he had reached eye level, the prick was deeply entrenched with Dawn about some show or another.

After dinner, he had been enticed into watching a movie—older, black and white, desperately romantic—with the girls. In that silent time, it was almost like it used to be before March. Buffy sat on the floor and they had parted her hair down the center, taking a half for either of them and braiding it. Xander was mildly pleased to note that his French braid looked more passable than Willow's, even with a cast on his left arm, but that also could have been because both she and Buffy were engrossed in the movie.

Xander pretended he didn't notice, but Spike also was in the living room, having some sort of poking war with Dawn, which he eventually won when he pinched her under her arm. It was all fun, but Xander couldn't help watch carefully.

It was almost to the end of the film, all lovey-dovey and beyond sweet, when the blond stood. "Well, time for work," he proclaimed, stretching his arms above his head, still annoyingly in his leather duster.

Dawn made a sad face, pulling on the end of his duster as if to make him stay, like a three-year-old latching onto an older brother's pant leg. Buffy made some sort of disinterested face, from what he could see of her, and Willow smiled ever so politely. Xander made his effort by lifting his hand in his own good-bye.

Spike detached himself from Dawn's grasp, telling her to listen to her 'mum' when she was told to go to bed. Xander definitely sensed the eye-rollage from the Buffster.

Then with a flap of his coat, he left the room. Xander refrained from rolling his own eyes at the dramatics, and in the end succeeded.

In the hallway he heard a muted conversation, barely audible.

"You have your key?" Joyce asked.

"S'in my pocket," Spike answered. "Lock up safe."

Some part of him relaxed at that, despite the fact that he still thought the man was a pain. He obviously looked out for the girls, even if they proclaimed they didn't need it, what with Buffy being a jujitsu-ballerina-gymnast and Dawn being an acrobat herself.

The door opened and closed with a soft thump and the rest of the movie passed in peace, though Dawn hopped up from the loveseat and deposited herself nice and comfy beside Xander. Next they watched a cheesy, old, action flick—"May as well build up Xander's testosterone levels again…"—which was funny and had bad one-liners that Xander filed away for use later.

Dawn fell asleep against the couch's arm halfway through it, and the girl's and he made idle chit-chat about the dialogue, the weather, some school things that most strayed away from them talking about March, or the cast on his arm. His last two months with Giles had been his life forever, if he ignored the worried glances, the almost-talk about fathers, and random things that he no longer had because his father had trashed most of his belongings after the cops came. If he ignored stiff muscles, helpful drink-getting, and cautious movements meant to put him at ease, yet only serving to make him tense.

When Xander went to bed, he was glad—nearly blessing the fact—that the room was void of the other man, unsure if he would be able to sleep with a stranger in the room. He pulled out his walkman and headset pressing play.

Trace Adkins tonight… that would serve him well enough.


	6. Chapter 6

Spike crawled in through his bedroom window, despite having the door key in his pocket. Somehow, sneaking in the 'back way' was much more fun. It also kept the ability sharp, not that he figured he would ever need it again. He was trying to leave most of his old ways behind him for the Niblet. He didn't make a noise as he hauled himself across the back porch's roof, to the screen of his room's window. The window made of a bit of a creaking sound, but a bit of lube would fix that right as rain before tomorrow night.

He carefully peaked through the curtains, spotting the lump on the popped trundle where he should be, sleeping by the look of things. He stepped carefully into the room, the plush carpeting muting any noises he boots would normally have made. Closing the window and curtains, he walked over to the lump. Whelp slept in a loose S-shape, red sheet up to his ears and one hand tucked up under his chin, while his casted arm flopped beside him, fingers twitching in some dream. His hair was unruly, wild around his face and making the young man seem even younger than he really was.

Cute, really. Maybe even adorable.

He exited the room as quietly as he had come in, padding down the hall to the next room. It was his normal night routine, spawned from having lived in some bad parts of London and having been the 'bump in the night' in the lesser appreciated parts of his adolescence.

Buffy and Red were sleeping comfortably, Buffy between the door and her friend in some unspoken rule of protection. Red's head was just barely visible behind the solid wall that the older Summers daughter always seemed to present to the world.

Across the hall was Niblet's room, where Watcher would be sleeping. A light was still on, and Spike guessed that he'd fallen asleep reading. He didn't go in and check though. Wasn't sure what he would say to the man if he were still awake. He could obviously take care of himself, and had an aura around that stodgy, reserved mask that said he would protect what was his at any cost necessary. Got the respect of Spike if it were true.

Last was Joyce's room, where from a quick peek inside, he saw the two shapes that indicated mother and younger daughter fast asleep and safe. The window was cracked just a bit, but seeing as there was no quick access to Joyce's room like his own or Buffy's, he didn't feel the compulsion to close it.

A quick round downstairs to check the windows and locks of the doors, hang his duster in the hall closet, and have a quick shower and he was back in his room before it was even four in the morning. He plopped himself on his bed, taking one last overview of Xander, who had turned in his sleep.

His brow was furrowed in his sleep, right hand clenching and releasing unevenly, as if continuously trying to grasp for something. Suddenly his breathing hitched, and a small, painful moan startled Spike. His head tossed to the other side, an indiscernible, but definitely frightened mutter stumbling over his lips as he curled a little tighter around himself. His legs drew up and his right arm flew to cover his face. Defensive.

Spike watched for a second more, his hope that the nightmare would work itself out keeping him still until a short, quiet shout of grief coaxed his voice out of him.

"Oi! Xander!" he said loudly, but as kind as he could make his voice.

The whelp jerked back to consciousness, his night-darkened eyes wide with torment and fear as he took in his surroundings. He blinked once, twice, looked at Spike blearily before it must have hit him. He rubbed his hand over his face, muttering tiredly, "Sorry. Did I wake you?"

Spike shrugged. "Hadn't gone to sleep yet. Nightmare?"

Xander nodded, his hand falling into his lap as he looked over to the window, moon visible through the slightly open curtain. Spike watched him, decided that was all the Whelp was going to say. He kicked his boots off with practiced ease, swinging his legs over his bed. "You gonna be able to sleep again?"

Whelp continued to stare at the moonlight and Spike thought he might need to go get Watcher for the boy. Finally though, the younger man looked around him, patted down the sheets around him, looking for something. He leaned over the side of the bed moving his sheet around. "I had a tape player…" he said with a lost air about him.

Spike, almost without his admission, hopped out of his bed and started searching out for a walkman. It wasn't under the bed, though he noticed the rucksacks that were still filled with clothes; wasn't by the chest of drawers. He patted down by Xander's feet and felt a square lump. Flipping the sheet up, he found the walkman, but no headset. "You listenin' through osmosis or somethin'?"

Xander glared up at him, or maybe it was a normal look, transmuted by confusion and tiredness. "I had the listening thingies," he answered, looking around him again, lost look still in place. "They were on my head." He searched under his pillow but found nothing. He stared at it accusingly, as if the pillow had not only hidden the blasted headset, but also transported it to a demon realm where he would never recover them.

Spike sat on his haunches, staring at the small after work show before shaking his head. "How 'bout this, Whelp? Let's watch a bit of telly. Help you fall asleep."

Xander turned his head towards Spike as if seeing him for the first time. "You don't mind?"

Spike smiled at the whelp. "Nah. We'll find a nice boring infomercial about knives. Have you out in no time, we will."

"You got Star Trek on this hunk o' junk?" he asked.

Spike furrowed his brows. "Star Trek? You're not even joking, are you?"

He looked put out for a second, many afterwards. "Not like your choice of shows is much better, Bleach Boy," he said, completely unrepentant. Apparently, little sleep made him less subservient, more spark-like.

Spike shook his head. "We'll see what we find. How 'bout that, Whelp?"

Xander agreed, looking exhausted, but pulling up his pillows to make himself comfortable against the wall. Spike flopped onto his own bed, pulling out the remote from its hiding space to flip the telly on. Eventually they settled and fell asleep to the old Doctor Who series.


	7. Chapter 7

Xander woke weary and tired to the sounds of quiet feet across the carpet, the sounds of Giles getting ready for the day. He wasn't really sure when his body had trained itself to get up when it became aware of the librarian, but for the last month or so that was what he had been doing. He twisted on his bed, stretching peaceably from head to toe and careful not the thump the cast against the wall. He sat up slowly, looked at the alarm clock on Spike's little makeshift table of milk crates. It read eight forty-five, which was the latest Xander thought Giles ever slept in.

The shower turned on, barely audible through the well insulated walls, but there. Xander stayed in his bed, glanced at the television that had lulled him back to sleep last night. It was off. Spike must have fallen asleep after him.

He glanced over at his roommate, taking in his sleeping form. Awake, Spike was a whirlwind of picking, teasing, and smirking. He seemed to have an inability to stay still even when seated, his ringed fingers always drumming, his leg jiggling. Asleep, he was still, really still, like dead still. Xander had to watch him for a few seconds before he even noticed a slight elevation in his chest, signifying his breathing.

Spike was also softer in sleep. The sharpness of his face was still there, but the cheekbones lost some of their edge, his lips relaxed, and with his hair un-gelled and slightly curled, he looked somewhat approachable and really quite beautiful in a pale, fallen angel sort of way.

Xander found his eyes running over the other man's body. He was a mass of coiled muscles, even visible under the loose—and that was a kind term—shirt and pajama bottoms. Despite that he wasn't bulky; he was actually slim, almost petite. Compact came to mind. He would fit nicely against—

The shower turned off almost the second Xander pushed those thoughts away with an angry flush rising onto his face. He wasn't supposed to think like that. Those thoughts went in a special, non-descript little box in the back of his mind where no one but he could look at them and only when he was completely sure he was alone. He wasn't allowed to think those thoughts anywhere people might be around because he might do or say something stupid. Everyone knew he had a long history of it.

More movement around in the hall and Xander pulled himself out of bed, chastisement mostly over, but punctuated with short, ferocious shakes of his head. Opening the door, he just barely caught the top of Giles' damp hair as it disappeared down the stairs. He was kind of relieved; having a slight paranoia that Giles would be able to see the thoughts he tried to keep hidden the box. He went to the shower, grabbing a towel from the wrack and hopping in. Joyce had left a box of saran wrap on the sink counter so his cast wouldn't get wet. It was a bit difficult wrapping his arm by himself, but after a month and a half, he was almost flawless at it.

After burning half of his skin off and perhaps melting the other half, he realized had forgotten something very important.

Clothing.

Cursing under his breath, he peeked out the bathroom door and made a run for Spike's room, towel held firmly around his hips. He shut the door with a silent click, blessing whatever gods there were that the girls didn't seem to be up and milling around. He reached under the bed carefully and pulled out the first bag he touched. Opening it with one hand was a bit of a challenge since his fingers were still a bit wet, and as he struggled with it, a sleep-thick British accent spoke from behind him.

"Like the new apparel, Whelp." Xander didn't yelp. He really didn't as he spun around, clutching his towel in a death grip. Spike had a small smirk playing on his lips as he muttered, "Bit Spartan, but th' look suits ya."

Xander stared at the slitted eyes, his mouth hanging open and hand grasping at his towel. "You're supposed to be asleep!" he told the other man, watching as that smirk grew.

"I am," he muttered, his eyes closing for a moment as he took a deep breath. "S'all just a dream, pet. Don't you worry 'bout it."

The endearment sent a thrill through him, but he ignored it, sending it to the little non-descript box. He grabbed his clothes and high-tailed it to the bathroom again, just barely shutting the door before he heard Buffy's bedroom door open. He pulled on his clothes as fast as he could, pulling over a loose tee-shirt just as a knock came on the door.

Willow stood there, looking still mostly asleep. She was usually a morning person, but Xander would bet money that he didn't have that she and Buffy had done an all nighter, using the time for girl talk, boy-drooling, and discussing things they couldn't while Xander was around. She was just up for a run to the potty.

"Hey, Wills. Lemme just get around you…" He half-danced around her so that she could stumble in to the somewhat still foggy room, closing the door behind him when it looked like she wouldn't.

After a quick moment, he gathered his wits about him and headed downstairs. Giles was at the table, a book in hand and a mug of tea at his elbow. He took his seat directly next to him, not bothering to grab something to eat just yet. He looked at Giles for a moment, until green eyes glanced up at him. "Morning, Xander."

He smiled. "Morning, G-man," he said. "Whatcha doing?"

"I'm catching up on some teaching etiquette." Xander frowned. He had almost forgotten that Giles would be starting a summer teaching position at the local college. "What are you, er…up to?"

"Getting ready for the day," he said with a shrug, leaning further down into his chair.

"Oh yes, that's right. You'll be joining the girls on the way to the mall, correct?" Giles asked, taking a sip of his tea. He had set his book down to focus on Xander, which always kind of…shocked him for some reason. Then suddenly, Giles shook himself. "You'll need spending money," he said, more to himself than anyone else as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out his wallet and then reached in for a few bills. As he handed the money over, he said, "I would think sixty would be enough."

Xander shook his head. He hadn't done anything to deserve that. "Nah, Giles. I'll just go window shopping."

"Don't be ridiculous, Xander. I'm sure there will be something that catches your attention." He jabbed the money in his direction with a look that said 'take it before I stuff it in your mouth.'

Xander reached out for the proffered cash, taking it hesitantly. "Thanks, G-man. I'll, uh, I'll pay you back…" He stared at the bills in his hand before shoving them into his cargo pants.

Giles looked at him over the rim of his glasses. "I will pretend that was a joke."

He lifted his book up again, taking another sip of his tea. Xander stood up, a bit disoriented as he searched for food. He was really sad that Joyce was at work and wouldn't be able to make her famous waffles, but he figured he shouldn't whine since she was letting him stay at her house, free of charge.

When he had finished his bowl of cereal, Giles grabbed his book and they moved into the living room, where Xander turned on some cartoons, and they resumed their silent companionship.


	8. Chapter 8

Dawn bounded down the stairs and into the living room, diving onto the couch, next to Xander the second she saw him, snuggling her cheek into his shoulder. Giles was on the loveseat, book in his lap as he surreptitiously tried to act like he wasn't watching Tom and Jerry. It was just the three of them, since her mom was at work, and the older girls were asleep. Spike almost never woke before noon since he usually didn't go to sleep until four or five in the morning.

She brought her hands around Xander's right bicep, holding loosely. "Did you find something to eat?" she asked, her eyes tracing a futuristic mouse as he walked through a space station.

Xander nodded, his hand unconsciously petting through her hair. "Found some Count Chocula."

Dawn tucked her feet beneath her thighs. "That's Spike's cereal." She felt Xander stiffen beneath her hand, and gave his arm a kind pet. "Don't worry. He won't notice."

Of course, when Spike woke up about eleven thirty, after Buffy and Willow had awoken and stumbled into the living room to watch Courage: The Cowardly Dog with them, he did notice. And everyone knew he had figured it out, because he yelled, "Oi! Who broke into my cereal?"

Xander tensed beside her, but she just snuggled into his side. "Xander needed a fix!" she yelled back, ignoring the glares that Buffy sent towards her. Giles looked up from his book, a small, amused smile gracing his face.

Spike came into the doorway, black shirt holding to his body. He looked quite serious as he stared at Xander. "Look, Whelp, I can't have my damn Weetabix 'round here. The Chocula is sacred." He pointed a finger at Xander, as if in warning, but quickly shifted it to Dawn, herself. "You, Niblet…I don' know what you said, but you hush. Got it?"

Dawn just smiled, trying to convey innocence to the older man. Xander was still stiff beneath her hands, his arm taut. She gave his cheek a quick kiss before she hopped of the couch and went bounding off after Spike. She sat next to him at the table, ignoring the half-hearted glare sent toward her. She had been looking at it every morning since he moved in.

Spike was very much not with the morning program.

She reached over and took a marshmallow from his bowl, ignoring the growl and attempt to stab with his spoon. "You're coming to the mall with us, right?" she asked folding her arms over the table and staring at him intently, as if willing him to say yes.

He shrugged. "When you silly nits goin'?"

"Supposedly half an hour, but no one's ready. Don't think Buffy's even had her morning hour-power-shower." She rolled her eyes at her sister's antics, and he snorted into his bowl of cereal. "I'm pretty sure the only one who's even remotely ready is Xander. Although all I need to do is change into some shorts and I'll be good to go!"

She waited patiently, keeping that innocent expression on her face as the conversation caught up with Spike. She could practically see the look of horror come over his face at the thought of her…in shorts…at the mall…with boys. Spike was so going to the mall with them.

"I'll get ready after my cereal," he grumbled, practically inhaling the rest of his Chocula.

Dawn smiled happily and gave a short clap of her hands. "Yay!" She then bounced away from the table to her room, hopping over Giles' suitcase which was propped open against the wall, prim and organized as ever. She grabbed her shorts from her dresser, then a tank-top that Spike would at least find somewhat appropriate and wouldn't cause Buffy to go into epileptic seizures.

By the time she was changed and ready, Buffy could be heard talking to herself in the shower, Willow was rummaging around in her bag, and Spike had just emerged from his room wearing his standard outfit of black and red. He took one look at her and she could see the scowl forming on his face.

"Gonna have to beat people off ya left and right, Niblet," he grumbled.

She rolled her eyes as she took the stairs. "It's not that bad, Spike. I could wear this to school."

"I've seen the underwear that school calls a dress code. S'not exactly helpin' your case."

Dawn laughed, making for the living room, "Spike, go have a cigarette. You sound like you're having a nic-fit."

He did what she said, heading towards the front door with a shake of his head and a muttered, "Bossy little nit."

She shook her head and took her seat in the living room again, next to Xander. He was alone by now, Giles having puttered off somewhere else. Instead of cartoons, Babylon 5 was on. Dawn didn't know any of the names or characters, had never really tried getting into any of the sci-fi things Xander cherished so much. Instead, she just pulled her feet up on the couch and turned towards her friend.

With a nudge of her foot, he turned his attention to her as well. "What's up, Dawnie?"

"Are you ready for the mall?" she asked, an excited smile on her face.

"Oh, yeah. Shoe-shopping, clothes-fitting, purse-holding…I really can't wait," he answered, only half put out. She knew he liked the mall-escapades, had loved them when they had all lived in Sunnydale, before Dawn's mom had to move back to L.A. when the museum went under.

Her smile turned calm, content. "You know, the mall was made for more than just clothes. It's a hodge-podge of geek, freak, and chic stores. Meant for everyone." She paused tilting her head a little. "And Spike's going, too, so you'll have male companionship."

It was subtle, but Xander had always been_ her_ friend, even though Willow and Buffy claimed him first, he was_ her_ friend. They saw each other. A line of tension went through his shoulders, and she nudged him again with her foot. "He isn't all bad," she said fondly, thinking of her blond menace.

Xander shook his head. "No. He's kind of half-good." He switched to nodding, and Dawn had a feeling the boys had bonded somehow while the rest of the world had been sleeping.

She touched his hand, not caring about the cast as she laced her fingers through his, tried to convey that she understood what he wasn't saying.


	9. Chapter 9

Spike flicked his cigarette out the window of his DeSoto, uncaring about the burn ban. From the backseat, Buffy squawked indignantly as he rolled up the window.

"Are you_ trying_ to burn the city down?" she asked, her eyes narrowing on his through the rearview mirror. "There's a burn ban for a reason, Spike. I don't know if you've been keeping up with the news, but there have been buildings_ burning_, you know, like fire."

"I got it, Buffy," he said, with a roll of his eyes. He glanced to Xander, who had been shoved into the passenger seat by the Niblet. "She's a damn mother hen, she is. Always picking and fussing over my actions."

Buffy growled. "If you thought out your actions, I wouldn't pick now, would I?"

He smirked. "See what I deal with?"

Xander looked over the bench seat to the girls who were huddled together. Through the rearview mirror, he saw what the Whelp did. Buffy glaring at the back of his head, Niblet smiling wanly, and Red…Red was watching Xander with a worried look in her eyes. He knew the moment Whelp saw it, because he smiled convincingly and turned his gaze out the windshield, telling Spike, "You should have seen her in Sunnydale. You think she's bad now…"

"_Xander_!" Buffy protested. "That's it! You get no chocolate."

Whelp pouted at her over his shoulder, a good mask Spike thought. He acted like that was what he actually cared about, let them think that nothing was wrong. He was happy they weren't focusing on his past, if Spike had to guess what was spinning in the other's brain.

He pulled into the packed parking lot trying to find the closest space, despite the yells of, "There! Oh, oh, there!" coming from his backseat. He really wasn't a fan of the sun or the heat so he circled for a bit, much to the groans of the birds in the backseat. About the tenth isle he went down, he heard Xander say, "That person's pulling out. Wait a sec…" And sure as rain, an SUV back out of a parking space right next to the entrance.

"Well spotted, Whelp," he said as he pulled into the space left open for him. The women-folk practically fell out of the car, but Xander nodded, pushing the door open sedately.

"Just doing my duty to the girls," he said, a small smile, more real than the other's he had given, was given to him as he stepped out of Spike's car.

Spike felt himself smile as well as he hopped out of the vehicle as well, following after the gang of scoobies.

Of course, the first thing the girls all flocked around was the damn shoes. Buffy, Red, and Niblet all tried on nearly every single shoe style they could get their dainty little claws on. Xander and Spike hung back, and he was somewhat amused by the fact that Whelp ended up with all three of their handbags in his lap and a growing number of shoes beside him.

At one point Niblet came to him, gave him a sweet calculating look, before saying, "You strong, manly men look hungry. You should go check out the food court. We'll be there after we get shoes."

Spike, like earlier that morning, found himself thinking that she was a pushy little bint, but grabbed the Whelp by this tee-shirt sleeve and hauled him towards the exit of whatever hell they were stuck in. He milled through people, kept a hold of Xander's bicep as he guided them through the cattle fawning over clothing, perfume, and make-up. At one point, a representative spritsed something atrocious in their faces, and he couldn't refuse the growl that had the woman reeling back.

In the walkways of the mall, towards the food court where Spike could already smell the lo mein calling for him, he could feel Xander list towards him, trying to keep away from being touched. Spike refused to put his arm around Whelp's waist to tug him closer. Instead, he simply guided Xander behind him, keeping hold of the boy's wrist.

When they finally arrived at the overstuffed court, he asked, "Whatcha in the mood for, Whelp?"

"Stop calling me that, Bleach boy!" he said, bite in his voice, but small, true smile on his face.

Spike didn't try to fight the urge to catalogue the boy's features, strong jaw, sweet smile, dark eyes. He only wished the clothes Whelp wore were actually fitted to his form. He was so innocent it was almost painful. Spike held his arm a little tighter, pulling him away from a gaggle of girls who didn't have the sense to recognize the beauty that walked right by them.

"I'm thinking Chinese," Whelp said, tugging his arm and guiding Spike towards the Chinese stand.

So many scents assaulted him, chicken and Worcestershire and beef. He let himself be hauled into line, not protesting. They stood in line together, side by side, and Spike noticed. He noticed the way Xander's eyes trailed, wandered, following the form of another man with dark, blond hair, strong but small.

Spike smirked. "That what catches your fancy, pet," he asked, his fingers massaging the strong muscle beneath Xander's skin.

He startled, taking his arm away from Spike. "No. No! I wasn't…" Flustered now, Xander looked towards the small bar of food before him, taking a deep breath. "I was just…"

Spike settled his hand on Xander's triceps. "It's really not that big a deal, pet." He looked around the court, finally settling on another male, tall, broad, with a dark countenance. "That's more my type. Tall, dark…"

He looked at Xander, considering.

The boy looked upset, his lips thin as he stared strictly ahead of him, no longer looking anywhere but ahead of him. Spike felt himself tense at the idea of what the boy's father must have done to him to not even trust the feelings he had.

Spike sighed, released the boy's arm and reiterated, "'S not so bad as he said it is."

Xander didn't look at him, but the tenseness of the body beside him spoke volumes.


	10. Chapter 10

Priority number one in Xander's list of things to do was to stay away from compact, dark, and bleached. After the lunch debacle there had been a tenseness in him that Spike hadn't even had the decency to mimic. While Xander was doing the internal panic attack, he sprawled out like he owned the mall entirely and only graced everyone else to wander his halls.

Xander resisted the urge to stab him with his plastic fork.

That jerk had some nerve to just…just_ say_ that, like he knew everything about Xander. He had just been looking around and, okay, the guy had looked nice in a beach boy sort of way that reminded Xander of preps and Aeropostle, and, okay, so what Spike said hadn't been wrong but…

No, he didn't think like that. He had better control than that. He was supposed to be looking at pretty girls, like Buffy and Willow and Cordelia, because they were all way hot or so he'd been informed. Everything else was in The Box, capital letters added for the gravity of what it held. The Box was supposed to be kept locked, except for the occasional moments where he would be alone and sure no one would find him for a while. It was not to be traipsed around in during a mall visit.

He speared a water chestnut, imagining it to be Spike's face, when he heard the girls come up behind him, three voices of excited chatter all over-lapping each other. Xander spun about in his chair, eyes eagerly searching out and waving them over. He may as well have been acting like an eager puppy ready to escape the groomers, and he was received about as well as one.

Willow came skipping up to him, giving him a hug from behind while Buffy patted his head with a chipper, "Hi, Xander!" They flock on either side of him, Buffy pulling up a chair before he could offer his to her. Dawn went to the other side of the table, beside the beast, himself, propping her elbows on the table and eyeing their food ravenously.

"You should have seen that man," Willow said with merriment in her voice as she gave Xander's arm a shake. He couldn't help but tense, but she didn't really notice in her enthusiasm. He refused to meet the blue eyes he knew would be dancing across the table. "He looked exactly like Snidely Whiplash! I mean the same moustache. Oh! And! He even twirled it."

From across the table, Spike said smoothly, underhandedly, "Yeah, too bad we missed that, huh, Whelp?"

He sent a covert glare over to the blond, noting miserably that the smirk only grew. Then beside him, Buffy growled with a roll of her eyes. "I had almost forgotten you were here," she bemoaned. "You didn't get into any trouble with him around did you?"

"Nothing! Lots of nothing!" At their shocked looks, he smiled hesitantly, before demanding, "Stop pushing!"

From the corner of his eyes he saw Spike sneer at his antics, but firmly ignored him, because he was staying away from the menace. Yes, that was what he was doing and would be doing a better job of if they all weren't sitting together at the table, and they weren't including the prick in on conversations that would probably embarrass him.

"Maybe you should have less caffeine," Dawn said with a concerned tilt of her head.

Buffy shook her head, her eyes wide as if she couldn't_ quite_ believe that he was what she had befriended. "No, that's just Xander in all of his strange glory…" Then she completely ignored his squawk of indignation, just as blatantly as he disregarded Spike's amused smirk.

He was finding it very hard to avoid Spike and it was getting quite taxing not to sneer back when one was offered to him. It didn't help that Spike had started sucking his noodles in, from one end to the very last of it. He wasn't sure if that was to tease Dawn, who looked like she was undergoing torture, or himself, because really…_ really_.

"Xander, you look kinda flushed. Are you sure you should be here? There are a lot of people and we would understand…" Willow said, sounding a little worried, a little guilty, a lot hesitantly.

Box! Xander demanded as he looked at his best friend, and said, "I'm okay, Wills. Just kinda…y'know. Warm. It's warm in here. Don't…you…think?" He laughed a little nervously, pulling at the collar of his tee.

He was met only with raised eyebrows from his table, and on incredibly amused smirk from the only other male at the table.

He fiddled with his cast for a moment, scratching an itch that wasn't there.

From beside him, Buffy abruptly said, "I am starved. I could eat a cow!" Then she paused. "Well, not an entire cow, 'cause that would be gross and_ so_ not conducive to my diet. A salad…with chicken. Maybe an entire chicken. I think I could eat a chicken."

She stood, and without pausing Willow did too. He had to resist the panicked urge to say he would go with them. He knew it would get him more odd looks, and though he was used to them, he thought maybe, just maybe he should curtail that urge. He tucked into the remnants of his meal once again, stabbing an errant piece of pork in his Styrofoam container and chewing violently.

"Dawn, you coming?" Willow asked, pausing by the younger girl.

Xander glanced up. Why, he would never allow himself to know. She was looking at him with wide, sweet eyes, a question hovering ominously in them. She broke the gaze quickly though, smiling so convincingly it almost made him hurt. "Yes! I'm starved!"

She hopped up and followed the other women-folk, only casting one look over her shoulder at the men remaining at the table. Xander gave a small wave with his casted arm, fingers wiggling about like little worms from the ground.

Left alone with Spike again, the awkwardness intensified and he stared at his plate until Spike shuffled in his chair, leaning over the table and staring until Xander was forced by some unknown force to meet his striking,_ smirking_ gaze.

"Well played, pet."

Xander really, really wanted to stab him. Really.


	11. Chapter 11

"There's a good looking ass."

Spike heard her, before he saw and smirked a little as he continued to peruse some of the leather displays, looking at pants and vests as well as all other manners of soft buttery skins he could see. He knew she wasn't speaking to him. She often said he didn't have enough of an arse to warrant a second glance, but he could guess who she was talking to.

The sound of a soft slap, and a very shocked squeak later and he finally turned himself around to see the only female bouncer he had ever met squeezing Whelp's very nice rump. He chuckled a little to himself at the completely alarmed look on Xander's face which he soon turned to the bird behind him. He pulled himself away from the leather pants and made his way over to them before the women could get their knickers in a twist about other random women groping their broken friend.

"Faith," he said, slow smile curling his lips. Xander practically jumped to his side still staring at her incredulously. Despite Whelp having decided that Spike should not be spoken to nor even looked at, he seemed to see the leather-clad woman a serious threat. Smart move, that. "What are you doing out of your cage before sundown?"

"Sampling," she said, her red lips turned up salaciously as she leered at the young man at Spike's side. Xander held his chocolate, which he had bought earlier, closer to himself as if the peanut butter-chocolate swirl were a shield against her gaze. "Where'd you find this one? He looks fresh."

Whelp looked affronted, sputtering out, "Hey!" before Spike spoke over him. "Visiting the Summers, the Whelp is. He and his little Red friend are up here from Sunnydale."

Something sparked in her eyes, the same light that always came to her eyes when the name Summers was brought up in conversation. Her smile grew, almost real yet still dangerous. "You know B?" she asked, sidling just a little closer to Xander.

He held the chocolate a little closer to his chest. "Yeah, she went to Sunnydale High for her sophomore year…"

"Well, hot damn! She never told me about you. She's been holding out on me, haven't you, B?" she asked as Buffy came up from the back of the store where the purses and such girly things were, Red and Bit hot on her heels.

Spike felt a quarrel coming on and drew the boy a few steps closer to him.

Buffy's stormy blue eyes glared torrentially at Faith, who only smiled sweet and sour. "Faith, what the hell are you doing here?"

Her smile became a bit more forced. "Free mall, sweetie. I was just chatting with my friends. You never told me you met such hotties when you were in SunnyHell." He eyes flicked towards Xander before they fell onto Buffy once more.

"Because it wasn't any of your business!" she growled, taking a subconscious step towards Faith, which made her gaze turn just a little lecherous.

Spike always enjoyed it when these two met. It was like foreplay.

However, the others seemed a little concerned. Apparently, they weren't used to seeing Buffy so volatile like he was. Course, they weren't usually subjected to her sharp tongue like he was.

Red stepped in close, hesitant and watching the scene with wide green eyes. "Buffy, w-who's this?"

Faith stepped in quick, hand extended. "Faith, and you are?"

Buffy glared. "None of your business." She bodily stepped away from the brunette, grabbing onto Red and Niblet so that she could steer them out of the store. "C'mon, Xander!" she called over her shoulder, hair bouncing angrily with her stomps.

Whelp started to follow before Faith stepped in front of him, startling the boy, and bringing out surprising stiffening from Spike, himself. She ran a finger over his obnoxious t-shirt, tilted her head dangerously as she considered him. "You should come out to the club with me one of these days," she said with a confident smile. "I think you'd really…enjoy…letting loose."

Spike's brow rose, before he shoved Xander a bit away from her. "Faith," he said warningly. "Let's not scare the boy. This is his first day in the big city, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll stop messing with your toys," she laughed with a roll of her eyes. She took a few steps back, intent on going back to her leathers. "See you later, Spike…hey!" He turned back to her from where he had been following the boy out of the shop. "You're working with me tonight, right?"

He shook his head. "Pulled bartending tonight."

Her face fell. "Bummer! Well, alright. I'll catch ya at work." She waved over her shoulder, already weaving towards the women's leather.

Xander, still beside him for some reason, even though he had been spending the last two hours at the mall studiously ignoring him—except for a brief three minutes when Spike had found the fudge he was so furiously clutching at now—was silent for a moment, before asking, "You work with_ her_? Where? At a BDSM club?"

Spike smirked back at Whelp. "Yeah, wanna visit? Could get you a discount." His smirk turned to a lecherous smile to rival the woman's they had just left in the store.

Xander turned away, his cheeks coloring. "I'll have to take a raincheck."

They walked towards the girls together, who were standing together near a coffee kiosk and likely trying to put Buffy back to some semblance of decent mood by plying her with caffeine. Xander watched the thunderous look on his friend's face with some concern, his brows falling a bit and making him look even more like a loyal puppy.

"How does she know Buff?" he asked, slowing his gait just a bit, so they could have this quick chat before she could hear them. "I mean, seriously. What did she do to her?"

Spike shrugged a bit. "Don't rightly know, m'self. Buffy don't talk much about it and the firecracker in there has heart to heart's 'bout as often as she wears dresses…which is never. I reckon it might have somethin' to do with someone's ex-boyfriends and broken hearts or whatnot, but I wouldn't know for sure."

Xander nodded, looked like he might ask something else and retreat from the cold shoulder treatment he had been giving Spike entirely, when Red came bounding over, clutching at his right arm, just above the cast. A line of tension went through the boy's shoulders, but she didn't really take a notice to it, tugging him to the kiosk.

"They have_ chocolate_ frappuccinos here with _chocolate_ whip cream!" she gushed, smiling hugely at him.

Spike was beginning to think that chocolate must be an addiction for Whelp because some of the strain released from his shoulders, though it didn't all go away until Red had relinquished his arm.

Spike rolled his eyes, and refused the urge to extract Xander from her grip.


	12. Chapter 12

Xander was the last to trudge into the Summers' home, carrying two bags in his left hand and glaring at the ground. The rest of the mall trip had been interesting and annoying to say the least. Buffy had gone back and forth about Faith and then drilled him on what precisely she had said, and after that, she had all but zoned in on him, as if he had suffered some mental trauma after exchanging a few words with a random girl. Willow had already been on the hover-bandwagon and Buffy had been washing back and forth over it before Faith, so now that her entire being was focused on him he felt his nerves grating.

When they came home, both Buffy and Willow had loaded their arms with bags and ran into the house. Dawn had taken a three or four of her own bags, and Spike had just stomped into the house, duster billowing behind him irately. When Xander had reached the huge car's trunk there had only been two bags and they were from the random accessory stores they had gone to. He didn't know why Dawn hadn't just snatched them up as well, but he was glad to have something to carry in his hand so that he could kick the door shut with his sneaker.

He followed the girls into the kitchen, trying to shake the annoyed look from his face. He didn't want the girls to fall down harder on him. They would ask if he was okay and try to make him take a seat and, god knew, they would try to get him a glass of water. Not only that, but Joyce and Giles would probably be in the kitchen and if he went in scowling and glaring he would probably be lecture about attitudes and tone of voice. His mother sure as hell had never taken to any attitude very well.

Once in the kitchen he set the bags as gently as he could on the island in the center, before throwing himself into a seat beside Giles, who sat at the table peeling potatoes for Joyce. Giles took a quick look at him as the girls gushed to Joyce about all the shiny and sparkly things they bought while out and about.

"What did you get, Xander?" he asked, pausing the vegetable peeler to focus his full attention on his ward.

He shrugged, keeping his irritation firmly out of his voice when he said, "I got some fudge. Didn't really see much of anything else that caught my attention." He reached into his pocket to pull out the change for Giles, but a sharp look over his glasses told Xander that the older man knew what he was doing and that he should abort.

He pulled his hand out of his pocket sans money, and placed his good hand on the table to drum distractedly. Giles looked at him calmly; Xander felt the gaze even as he listened to his friends show off all their new goodies and finds. When the itching at the side of his neck became too much, he looked back over to the older man, who still watched him calmly.

"Perhaps you should go watch television for a bit. Try to relax, hm?" he suggested, nodding towards the living room.

He released a breath he hadn't known he was holding and nodded back at his guardian before taking his leave towards the living room. Devoid of everyone else, the television was off, the remote resting on the coffee table. Xander picked it up and switched the television on. The cartoon channel was still on from this morning so he just leaned back against the couch and tried to relax in the calm of the empty room.

He did the breathing exercises his therapist told him to try when he was wound up, breathing even and deep, even and deep, even and deep…

"_Xander! Xander!"_

_He stumbled down the stairs of his old home, towards his father's voice. He felt fear caught in his chest, heart hammering loudly in his ears as he came down from his room. He saw Tony Harris just before he turned the corner, tall, handsome, and bulky. His fist came out of nowhere and caught Xander in the solar plexus._

_He stumbled, coughing but unable to bring oxygen back into his lungs. Blood pounded in his ears as he doubled over clutching at his struck chest. He tried to straighten up again, but his father's fist came down against the base of his neck sending him to the floor with a painful thud. _

_Hazy words came above the din rushing in his ears. "…know what you are…stupid fag…saw you kissing him…" _

_A kick came sharply to his ribs, and he gasped in pain, but that was the only breath he was able to pull in as he felt the bones cracking under his father's off-brand leather shoes. He tried to curl up, to protect himself, but it was useless. Tony managed to land a kick to his stomach, between his arms and up-pulled knees. _

"…_shoulda fucking known…always a girly-boy…"_

_He was yanked off the ground by the back of his tee-shirt, just high enough for his father to slam his head against the ground four times. The roaring sound of his blood became a shrill ringing as pain exploded across his skull._

_Still he managed to hear his father's furious words, "…shoulda beaten it outta you ages ago…knew this would happen…shoulda fucking drowned you…worthless freak…never be good for anything…"_

_His eyes felt hot and he wasn't sure if it was tears or blood. He didn't honestly care when he was wrenched from the floor by his arm and pulled, stumbling, to his feet. Tony punched him in the face this time, sending him to the ground yet again. His father knelt beside him, grabbing hold of his wrist, twisting it as he pulling it up his back. He whispered things in his ear, indiscernible now that the pain was taking over his entire upper body, but hateful, cruel…true…_

_He felt the strain of the bone, knew what was coming. He turned to plead with his father, to tell him that it hurt, and that he wasn't…he wasn't, he promised, he would change. But it wasn't Tony he saw, and he turned his face away from the angry, green eyes of Giles._

"Xander!"

He cried out, startled, scared, and so fucking betrayed. He scrambled away from the source of the voice, further into couch he had unwittingly fallen asleep on.

Sweet, blue eyes widened, before Dawn leaned towards him, reaching her hand out for him to take when he was ready.


	13. Chapter 13

Dawn kneeled in front of the couch, in front of her friend with a patience she almost never felt. She held her hand in front of her, offering it to Xander when he had calmed down from whatever nightmare he had just been trapped in. He looked like a wild animal caged as his brown eyes skittered around the room, pupils dilated but slowly retracting to their normal size. When they landed on her, he took a deep breath and tried to relax into the couch, finally lifting his hand, shaking visibly, to take hold of hers.

Squeezing his fingers, she slowly maneuvered herself onto the cushion beside him, keeping a respectable distance between them, unlike when she had cuddled up to his side that morning. "You okay?"

Xander took a shuddering breath, looked pale and gleaming with a thin layer of sweat. She took it all in, wondering if she should attempt to get Giles. She didn't know what to do in these situations, and Giles had probably done this much more than she had. She didn't want to leave him alone just then, though. He looked terrified and confused, and although he wasn't aware of it, he was gripping her hand firmly.

He nodded. "Yeah, it was, uh…I had a, um…"

"It was a nightmare," Dawn helped, keeping tight hold of his fingers when he tried to tug away. She squared her jaw when he looked at her, eyes still wild and just a little unfocused. He was allowed to be scared, but he could take her comfort, she thought to herself. He could hold her hand when he felt out of control. She wouldn't judge him. Xander turned his gaze towards the wall parallel to them, said nothing. They sat in silence for a moment, before Dawn pressed on. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Deep, steadying breath, slight shake of his head. "Nah, Dawnie. It was…it was just a memory. Nothing you should really hear about."

She frowned deeper than she had been before, covered their entwined fists with her free hand. "You might feel better if you do…just tell me the basics?" she suggested, her eyes searching his desperately.

He looked at her, brown eyes finally leaving the wall. "I wouldn't do that to you. You really don't want to know."

"Xander…I may not want to know, but I do want you to tell me." She gave his hand a gentle shake between hers. "I can take it."

He stared her down, but she lifted her chin, daring him to treat her like a little kid, daring him to hide from her like he hid from everyone else. She could see him. He could see her. It was one of the things they had understood since he knew Buffy. He was_ her _friend.

When she didn't back down he shook his head, jaw tight as he answered, "It was about my father…what he did to me." He lifted his right arm a bit, before letting it drop back onto his lap with the gentle smack of plaster against skin.

Dawn bit her lower lip, staring at the cast, blank and glaring at her. She took the chance of scooting closer to him, taking one hand away from his so that she could wrap her arm around his shoulder and rub his neck. "He won't ever be able to do that to you again, Xander," she said, staring intently into his eyes. "No one will ever be able to hurt you like that again, okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I know," he told her, but it didn't necessarily sound like he believed it.

Dawn withheld her upset sigh, leaned over to give him a comforting peck on the cheek. "Come on. Dinner's ready."

He was still shaking, but it had settled down to where you would only see it if you were looking for it. She let his hand go and he took it to wipe at his face with the hem of his tee-shirt. "Okay, let's go," he said, putting on his brave face, painting on a happy smile.

She painted one on her own face, wondering if hers was even half as convincing as his.

Xander led the way into the kitchen, smiling at the various greetings of, "Wondered when you'd get here," and "Thought you were in a coma," that blared out at him. He ushered Dawn in front of him so that she could grab her plate first.

Once she was seated at the table, seated beside Willow—who tried her best not to look dismayed at the fact that Dawn had taken the seat she obviously saved for Xander—he grabbed his own plate. She watched him as carefully as she could without letting him or the others know that that was what she was doing. She saw that his shaking was a bit more pronounced with a plate in his hand. It wasn't tumultuous, but definitely noticeable.

He piled his plate full of food, and Dawn watched as the strain to hold onto the plate became not only visible, but attention-grabbing as well. If anyone else at the table took their eyes away from their food or the conversation they were having, they would have caught it right off the bat. As it was Dawn was almost positive she was the only one keep a trained eye on her friend.

She saw in slow-motion as the plate slipped from his fingers and shattered onto the ground with a deafening clatter. Before she could say anything Buffy, Willow, her mom, and Giles were out of their seats. She and Spike, she saw out of the corner of her eye, stayed at the table as the others swarmed him.

"I'm sorry," she could hear Xander saying, somewhat frantic as everyone crowded. "I'm sorry. I'll clean it up, just don't..._ don't…_"

She could hear her mother trying to push Xander away so she could clean up the mess for him, her calming, "Don't worry about it, Xander, just let me…"

Buffy and Willow flitted around him with alternating, "Xander, are you okay?'s" and "Do you need something? Xander? Xander?'s"

Giles was the only one she couldn't hear, but he was close to his ward speaking to him lowly as Xander's eyes bounced from face to face.

"You're crowding him," Dawn heard herself say as she stood from the chair, but a firm hand around her wrist halted her attempts to pull everyone away from Xander. She looked over her shoulder to see Spike's clear blue eyes regarding her carefully. "He can't be crowded like that!" she growled, or as close to it as she would ever come. "They're making him nervous!"

He nodded, saying, "Let the Watcher take care of that one."

And just then, Giles' voice could be heard clearly, "If you would kindly let him breathe for just one moment, I would highly appreciate it!"

She whipped her head around to see him glaring at the other three women, who backed away with various looks of shock before finally leaving them alone. Her mother finally snapped back to herself, recognizing that Giles was right and put her arms around Buffy and Willow and pulling then towards the table. "Come on, girls, Spike. We'll take tonight's meal in the dining room."

Dawn was first with her plate and out of the kitchen, turning back only once to see Giles trying to calm Xander's breathing again.


	14. Chapter 14

Once they were all settled at the dining room table with their food, Willow did nothing but play with her mashed potatoes. She remembered feeling ravenous in the kitchen, but now in here she couldn't force herself to eat. She glanced around the table and noticed Buffy in the same state next to her, pushing her green beans around on her plate sightlessly. Joyce seemed to be doing better, managed to chew and swallow a few bits of her pork chop, but didn't really seem to taste anything. Spike and Dawn, well they seemed to be okay with everything. Dawn ate at a sedate pace and Spike, just to her left, ate as if nothing had happened, as if Xander hadn't broken down in front of them all.

Willow took a deep breath, tucked her hair behind her ear and tried to stop twitching her leg from between the table. She desperately wanted to go back into the kitchen, to make sure Xander was okay, but she knew she couldn't. Joyce had told them that Xander would sit with them when he was ready and not one moment before. She had looked very stern and mom-like just then and Willow knew not to go against her.

"Does that happen often?" Buffy asked from her right.

Joyce's gaze snapped toward her. "Buffy! That's not important," she said, still in mom-mode. "What's important is that he's okay afterward." She speared another piece of pork with her fork, but no one missed the glance she sent toward the kitchen door.

Buffy looked at her mom with wide incredulous eyes. "Of course that's the important part, mom, but he never mentioned…_ anything_ about this! I want to know if this has something to do with his surroundings or…"

"It usually isn't this bad," Willow said, continuing to play with her potatoes. She glanced at Joyce apologetically. "N-not with me anyway, but I don't live with him so I can't really tell you what he's like all the time. I know he-he sometimes gets nightmares, like really bad and he'll start yelling in his sleep and stuff like that, and you can't really touch him or he'll wig out more-"

"Red," Spike surprised her from her rambling. He didn't say anything more, but the look was unmistakable.

"Oh…whoops," she said, feeling herself blush under his stare. "I just meant to say that usually he isn't so tense. Y'know, maybe it wasn't such a good idea for him to come with us to the mall."

"Well, what else were you going to do?" Dawn asked, her blue eyes sharp as Willow had ever seen them, as sharp as Spike's were. "You can't just keep him locked up in the house!"

Buffy reacted immediately, snapping at her little sister. "You know that's not what she meant, Dawn. She just meant maybe we should have gone later in the week, or…or maybe we shouldn't have stayed so long. We could have done something else, like gone to a park."

"Yeah, and we could have thrown Frisbees and balls for Xander to fetch, too. I think he really would have enjoyed that," Dawn said sarcastically with a heavy roll of her eyes.

"Girls!" Joyce said before the fight could escalate any further. "Finish your supper and then you can start World War III in the living room like normal sisters." She took a deep breath and shook her head. "I'm sorry about that, Willow. We all know what you meant, even Dawn. This is a stressful situation for all of us and we're all at a loss for what to do. Spike, please pass the salt."

Spike did as he was asked and handed Joyce the salt.

After that they were silent and when they had 'finished'—leaving various amounts of food on their plates—Joyce told them to leave them be and that she would take them to the kitchen later. Dawn hopped upstairs with an angry huff. Spike stayed at the table with Joyce. She and Buffy moved into the living room, hoping to find Xander there and disheartened when they saw the darkening room devoid of all life with the television going.

"How long do you think they'll be in there?" Willow asked, twisting her fingers together.

Buffy shrugged a little helplessly. "I dunno. When Giles used to give me lectures they never lasted more than ten minutes." She looked towards the kitchen door as if willing herself to see through it. "I wonder what they're talking about."

"Giles is probably giving him a pep talk," she said, hoping for levity, knowing she was falling short. Buffy gave her a small grateful smile for her effort before she took her seat, patting the cushion beside her.

"C'mon, Wills. We'll wait for him to come out."

She fell beside her friend and pulled her feet up under her. Buffy grabbed the remote and turned it to a family channel, and they watched two shows with half an eye. Mostly they waited avidly for Xander to emerge. Willow hoped that he would do so soon. She wanted to apologize for crowding him, and for dragging him around the mall when he hadn't even settled into his new surroundings. She should have known better; her mom was a psychologist, after all.

By the third show, Joyce went upstairs as well, popping in to make sure that they were okay. An hour later, Spike stomped to the front door, telling them to lock up before they went to bed.

After Spike was gone, Willow couldn't take it anymore. She stood up, hands twiddling for a moment in indecision before she straightened her spine. "I think I need a drink," she said with a nod, watching as a glimmer came into Buffy's eyes as well.

"Y'know, I am feeling the thirst now that you mention it." She too hopped off the couch and together they went to the kitchen, trying to make it look as natural as possible. Willow knew she would probably fail, but Buffy made it look somewhat believable.

They walked through the doorway and Willow swept the room, only to find Giles at the table, book in hand. She came up short, her brows furrowing. "Where's Xander?" she demanded looking all about the room as if he was hiding in one of the cupboards. She remembered he used to do that when they were small and he didn't want her or Jesse to find him.

Giles started visibly with a small gasp. "Good lord, you startled me." He set his book down in favor of taking his glasses off for a quick polish. "Xander went to bed shortly after supper. Said his nerves were acting up. He says goodnight."

Willow nodded, but couldn't stop her face from falling.

Giles saw the look on her face as he returned his lenses to his face. "It's better that he went straight to bed. He said he didn't sleep very well this previous night."

She was sure that was supposed to help, but it just made her realize that she hadn't really been the best friend to Xander since they arrived.


	15. Chapter 15

When Spike slipped in through his window, he was met with a sharp voice demanding, "Do you do _anything_ the normal way?"

He didn't jump, but he did curse softly under his breath as he straightened his jacket. He turned to the window, telling the boy, "I do plenty o' things normal, Whelp. I shower, brush m'teeth, wipe-"

"I don't need to know," he said as Spike locked the window. "What the hell are you doing climbing in through the window?"

He turned around, eyes used to the darkness of his room, and saw Xander staring at him from his bed, back propped against the wall with a pillow for support. "S'my room. I can come in any way I please, can't I?" He took a few steps towards the young man. "What are you still doing up anyway? Shouldn't you be getting some beauty sleep? Y'need all the help you can get."

"Ha ha, Bleach boy," he said, seeming to deflate a little into his pillows. He stared at the sheet around his waist, fiddling with the creases with his good hand. Spike watched, compelled to stay and see what Whelp had to say, if he had anything further to say even if it was a neat and clean, 'Sod off.' Surprisingly it wasn't. Instead, Xander said with a bit of a self-conscious shrug, "I couldn't sleep. I stupidly forgot to buy more earphones at the mall today so…"

"You been up since I left?" Spike asked, remembering that Whelp had been lying face up on the bed when he came in for his wallet and keys.

"Being awake is usually part of the 'can't sleep' instruction packet," he snarked back with a roll of his eyes.

Spike really enjoyed when the boy was tired. He was hysterical. Some part of him promised that he would do more to keep the boy up and agitated if this was the response he received, but he pushed it off as it contained a full crop of fantasies that weren't lucrative at this point in time. Despite the fact that he did enjoy Xander in this mode, he did understand the importance of sleeping, especially since even in the dark of his room the Whelp looked dead-tired.

He sat down on his own bed, leaned his elbows on his knees. "Like the noise to help ya sleep, do ya?"

Whelp scoffed. "Yeah. Lately." He shook his head and then fiddled with his cast as some sort of distraction.

Spike made a note to himself to pick up some headsets before he went to work tomorrow. Until then he shrugged. "Right, then. Let's watch some telly, shall we?" he asked. Whelp shrugged, nodded, fiddled with his cast some more. Spike flipped on the telly and tossed the remote to the other bed. "You pick the poison. I've got some things I need to do. Be back quick as a flash."

He nodded thankfully, already moving through channels, likely on a search for sci-fi. Spike watch the pictures flicker on the screen before he went on his check of the house, rolling his eyes when he only found the chain securing the front door closed and one of the kitchen windows partway open. The rest of the house was locked down tight though. The mess from the kitchen had been removed and the plates from the dining room had been set in the sink. He checked upstairs real quick, once again skirting over the room where the Watcher slept.

Then he was back in his room, sans his jacket which he had left in the hall closet, but still in jeans and his tee since he decided he would change a little later. He flopped down on his bed, pulling his boots off carelessly and letting them fall wherever. He glanced at the screen and found some horrible movie playing on the sci-fi network.

He shook his head, amused and a little disgusted. "You get your jollies off on this shite?"

Whelp shrugged. "This is mindless. Doesn't require me to think."

"Not that you think much anyway."

"Fuck off."

Spike smiled. He really liked Whelp when he was tired. He settled further onto his bed, pushed his pillows against the wall like Whelp had and crossed his ankles. He sighed somewhat content, and paid just a bit of attention to something about giant piranhas.

It was only about fifteen minutes later when Whelp spoke again, tired but refusing to sleep. "I'm not crazy."

Spike raised his brow. "No one said you were, pet." He paused for a moment, realized that someone might have while he was gone and even worse that it pissed him off. "Did someone say…?"

Xander shook his head. "No. No one said anything. Just me being me, I guess. I kinda felt…" Another shrug. Helpless silence. "Giles said he would take me back to Sunnydale if I wanted. That Willow could stay and I could come visit when I felt up to it. He said that he would tell the college he's working at to find someone else and that we would just go home." The laugh that followed was anything but happy. "Think that I would have to be a little crazy for Giles to just offer to take me home like that."

Spike curled his knee up, wanting to ask if Whelp was going home, but instead settled on something somewhat comforting. "Don't think that makes you nutters, pet. Think it means the Watcher cares about your well-being."

"Yeah," Whelp said, completely unconvinced. "Yeah, you're right."

A few more minutes of silence as piranhas on screen ate someone or something…who knew. After a while though, Spike's curiosity got the better of him and he asked, "So…you leaving for Sunnydale tomorrow?"

He shook his head, tilted his head back against the wall, closed his eyes. "No. I want to stay."

Spike nodded and watched the boy get comfortable as he could while sitting up. He didn't try to tell the Whelp to lie down; knew it wouldn't do any damn good. He let Xander fall asleep where he was, and left the telly on, feeling it would keep whatever demons followed the boy well away as he went to shower.

He returned to the same scene and actually felt happy that he would get to have this scene all summer.


	16. Chapter 16

He woke with Giles again, and ate Spike's cereal to the sound of turning pages. Giles didn't bring up the previous night, or the offer to return to Sunnydale. He didn't even mention his going to bed early. He asked how he had slept, and Xander had skirted around the fact that he hadn't gone to sleep until three-thirty in the morning. Simply answered that he had slept really well, which he had.

Spike had left the T.V. on for him so when he woke to the sounds of Giles' shuffling feet, he also had the sounds of bad dialogue in his ears. Spike had been sleeping on his bed, bleached hair curling softly over his forehead, looking relaxed and approachable even though he was still powerful and coiled tight in that 'loose' black tee and pajama bottoms. Xander had resisted the urge to brush his fingers through the older man's hair.

After his breakfast, Joyce had come down, grabbed the newspaper and settled down next to Xander. She, too, didn't bring up the previous night, and although he felt her gaze every now and again, when he caught her eye, she would give him a sweet smile. After she had finished up the local news, she folded it up and passed it to Giles. After another brief look at Xander, she fished out the comics and handed them to him.

It was actually kind of nice. They all had their sections of the paper and read together in silence almost like they were a normal family. Xander felt more relaxed than he remembered being in the last three months and when he finished the strips of humor, he migrated to the living room alone, which felt huge to him. They let him go alone.

He watched cartoons alone until Buffy and Willow came to join him with their breakfasts. They, unlike the adults in the kitchen, watched him like he would fall apart into a million small pieces. Neither of them really said anything—asked how he was feeling, if he had eaten, would he like something to drink because Buffy would totally go juice some oranges for him—and then settled down to watch shows with him.

He didn't really notice until about noon, but he had been watching the clock steadily. He was waiting for…for Dawn, yes, to make an appearance, to come bounding down the stairs in her purple p.j.'s and hop onto the couch next to him. By one, she hadn't come down, and neither had Spike. He tried not to let it get to him, tried not to fidget, or play with his cast, but as time went on he could feel the antsiness eating at him.

At one-thirty, he made a quick excuse about showering and getting dressed and ran upstairs. He checked Joyce's room first, feeling a bit like a creep, but he saw the bed devoid of bodies. His brows fell, wondering where the young girl was.

Of course, he found her in Spike's room, on Spike's bed, with her eyes glued to the television. Both of them were in their pajamas still, a strange pairing even in their color tastes, with Dawn wearing vibrant purple and Spike in his black. Xander stood in the doorway for a second, just looking at the two of them, taking them in as they stared avidly at the screen.

He admitted, to the Box, that Spike looked edible like he was. He was sleep-tussled and relaxed and completely fixated on the television in front of him. He was sweet, childish. Xander couldn't resist his small smile.

They hadn't even glanced at him in the few minutes he had been standing in the doorway, didn't look like they had even noticed him in the slightest. His smile grew.

"What are you watching?" he asked, brows falling as he finally focused on the show they were watching. It was grainy, and some lady was bemoaning something he wasn't quite sure what, and knew he didn't want to know about.

In tandem, they answered, "Passions."

Xander came further into the room, watching the show as he went. He considered sitting on his bed, but after a brief second's debate he went towards Spike's bed, demanding that the blond, "Move over!" Spike didn't even hesitate, simply scooted closer to Dawn and allowed for Xander to settle next to him. He made himself comfortable in the corner, his eyes dialing in on the screen before him.

He didn't understand what was going on, but he supposed that he wouldn't, seeing as he had never seen the show before in his life and apparently it had been going for a couple of years. He didn't ask about anything though. He didn't think that he would be well received if he did spoke.

They watched the first episode, and Xander didn't complain, enjoyed the numbness of the room. By the second episode, it became apparent that the shows were recorded and that they had apparently recorded at least a week's worth of shows.

They paused between the shows. Dawn tucked her feet under her. Spike pulled his knee up, wrapping one hand around his ankle and letting the other flop lifelessly beside him. Xander pulled Spike's pillow behind him, also letting his hands fall willy-nilly.

It was halfway through the third show. Dawn had brought them drinks between episodes and finally settled on Xander's bed, leaving Xander and Spike alone on the bed they shared. Xander and Spike were both relaxed, leaning back against wall and pillow.

And their hands touched.

Xander wanted to freak out. Knew he should, but he couldn't. Couldn't even move his hand away.

He didn't even try to wig when Spike linked his pinky with his.


	17. Chapter 17

Spike stopped by a local electronic store and picked up some headsets for the Whelp before he headed to work. He had told the younger boy that he could watch his telly when he went to bed, just not to mess with the VCR or his head would be Spike's. It was worth it to see the look of gratitude on his face, even though he had rolled his eyes at the VCR comment.

Xander had calmed down considerably since watching_ Passions_ with him and Bit. He had noticed when the door had opened and seen the way Xander had just looked at them, cataloguing and acting like he was an outsider looking in. By the end of the marathon, when Spike had linked their pinkies together, he had looked relaxed, almost sedate—not at all like he had been at the mall when Spike had caught him checking out the bloke in the food court.

He left the headset in the De Soto and parked it in the back alley behind the club he worked at, feeling and hearing the heavy bass of_ Renegades_ thumping through the night air. He threw his duster into the trunk. The owner didn't like jackets of any kind to be worn by his staff while on duty, and like hell he was going to leave his pride and joy in the employees' 'lounge.' Once he had secured and locked the De Soto the rest of the way down, he began his trip into the huge club.

"Spike!"

He turned to see Faith stalking towards him, decked in leather pants and some torn tee-shirt. She was smiling widely, giddily. They hadn't really seen much of each other last night, seeing as he was playing bartender. He had only called her to get a few fights broken up and they weren't even good fights. Just a few of the regular poofs getting too handsy with someone else's significant other. They were working front door tonight, thankfully.

Front door usually had a few bigots trying to start something with the_ Renegades'_ clientele. Those were always good fights and already he felt an answering tremor of anticipation in reaction to Faith's.

"Front door again tonight. This is the third time this week," she yelled over the din as she caught up with him, slipping her hand into his back pocket as she opened the side entrance to the building. "Wonder what we did to make the boss-man so happy."

Spike shook his head, yelling back, "Tosser's trying to keep us out of the club. Thinks we're too violent to be with the normal poofs and carpetmunchers."

Faith shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me long as I get a few hits in." She smacked a fist into her palm, a small bounce adding to her step. They met up with a few of the other bouncers in the work room, signed in on their timesheet, before heading out to the front door to relieve the other bouncers.

When they had their stations, it was business as usual, stamping hands willy-nilly. Spike knew they let in a few under-aged kids, but seeing as Faith was only about nineteen and the club owner let her drink like a sailor, he didn't see the point in trying to keep all the other teeny-boppers out. If they looked any younger than about seventeen, Spike would check for ID and as long as their pictures look believable he'd stamp their hand too.

Around eleven, the line to the club practically tripled in ten minutes and he and Faith were doing all they could to keep the patrons from getting their knickers in a twist. Was never a good thing keep a queen from her Cosmopolitan or a butch from getting her tequila.

By one it had slowed to a bit of a trickle, and Spike lit up a cigarette, offering one to Faith.

After her first drag, she looked at him curiously, asking, "So, how's having company? They goody-goodies like B?"

He shrugged. "Pretty much, yeah. They all tie their laces nice and straight."

"That sucks. Even the studly one?" she asked, a leer on her face as she leaned back against the smooth stone behind her. "He seemed pretty all right. Bit jumpy, but…"

He didn't manage to hide his smile very well, but he reasoned that he didn't really have to around this chit. She was like his younger female version all the way down. She didn't talk much about her past, but he could tell that she had come from hard times, done just as much bad shite as he had in her youth, and came to L.A. with the good intentions of turning around. She had had a rough patch there about six months ago, messed up pretty bad when she got in with a black market dealer, but she had turned herself around again. Buffy didn't see it, but Buffy didn't like to see anything that didn't fit into her black and white world.

"Whelp's an all right kind. Jumpy, like y'said. Far in the closet, but s'to be expected."

"Something to do with that nice, shiny cast?" Faith asked, flicking her fag away from her despite the fact that there was an ashtray just beside her.

Spike nodded, considering his own cigarette butt. "I think so. No one's much said anything. Joyce got the call in March that Whelp was in the hospital and kid's father had beaten him senseless. He don't talk about it much, though. Don't talk much at all unless he's dog-tired and annoyed half-blind."

She considered that, took it in. Then, like yesterday at the mall, she said, "He should come out with us sometime. See the nightlife or some shit. Whatever the tourists do when they get to the big city."

He chuckled, somewhat humorlessly. "I'd have to dig Buffy's and Red's claws outta him. The two of 'em seem to think one stiff breeze'll knock him over."

"That's too bad," she said. "Looks like he could use a good unwinding."

Spike nodded, thought back to when they had been watching_ Passions_ together with Niblet and Whelp had allowed him to touch him without flinching and pulling away as if burned. He wondered how much of that was comfort with him and how much he would let it continue if he could get his two protectors to realize that he didn't need as much protection as they thought.

A big, black man half-stumbled out of the club, glitter on his eyes and dopey, drunken smile on his face. He copped a feel of Spike as he stumbled onto the street, and proclaimed, "Oh, baby! You wanna come home with me tonight?" A few of his friends came out hot on his heels and helped him keep his balance and hollered apologies and some excuse about bad break-up or something, but they dragged him off.

He and Faith looked at one another, sharing a smile.


	18. Chapter 18

Xander managed to fall asleep for a little while after he went to bed. With the television running it was a bit easier to tune out his thoughts and though he didn't have a nightmare—thankfully—he only managed to stay asleep until two-thirty. After that, he was awake and flipping through channels until he found MTV. They were having some sort of hard rock music video fest, and although he didn't normally like hard rock, the angry bass helped chase away shadows for some reason.

He sat against the wall, staring at the videos in front of him, but not really seeing any of it. Instead, he thought about the day, thought about the five hour_ Passions_ marathon and the for the last two and a half hours of it, he had been touching Spike in some way, most ways enough to be considered intimate, at least between two men. When he looked back on it, he felt a bit of panic trying to well up, but mostly it was…it had been kind of nice.

He felt the need to look around for someone—for his father, or someone to come charging at him for even thinking such things—but in the dark of the night, alone in Spike's room, he felt that he could think what he wanted. Touching Spike had been relieving. Not having to say anything aloud, yet knowing that Spike could see in the Box, didn't shun him for having those thoughts and apparently thought the same if the statement at the mall—_"That's more my type. Tall, dark…"_—was anything to go by.

He touched his left pinky, the one that Spike had snared earlier, and in the process bumped his cast against his hand. Those brought up thoughts about his father, his parents in general, but his father specifically. He knew somewhere deep in his mind that not everyone would be like him. Not everyone would break bones and spirits for liking and maybe falling in love with the same sex. Larry's mom had been very supportive of him, and had started a PRIDE in Sunnydale that was actually doing really well.

But the nightmares…damn, the nightmares scared him so bad. Nightmares where his father would suddenly be everyone he trusted, people he loved and had loved more than he had ever loved Anthony Harris. In real life, he knew that they wouldn't do what Tony had done to him. Most of him hoped that they would accept him if he could ever convince himself to…to be himself. But he feared that chance, that voice that said they would leave him, and that was worse than broken bones and torn skin.

The bedroom window opened, allowing Spike to crawl through. When he saw Xander still awake on his bed, his brows fell. "The telly not help you sleep, then?" he asked, locking the window off-handedly.

Xander shrugged. "I slept for a bit. I just woke up about an hour ago." Spike looked at him curiously and for some reason, Xander didn't mind telling him, "Just woke up. No big deal."

Spike nodded, then started patting his duster down. "Got ya somethin'," he mumbled, finally digging into one of the inside pockets. He tossed his prize over and Xander caught it, somewhat, holding it in his left hand to see what the Brit was talking about.

"Headsets?"

"Yeah. You said you forgot to buy 'em at the mall yesterday. Stopped at an electronic store to get you a pair." When Xander didn't say anything, Spike sighed heavily. "Say thanks to good ol' Spike."

Xander came back to himself, pulling himself from the shock that Spike had done something so…nice for him. Then he realized that he should probably pay him back and reached under his bed, searching for the pants he had finally pulled on after the_ Passions_ marathon.

"If yer searching for that dosh the Watcher gave you, you'd best stop it. They were five bucks and it's not five dollars I'm gonna miss, Whelp."

He glared at Spike from his position half-off of his bed, but in the end he sat back against his pillow and made himself comfortable. After a minute or two, he sighed, fingered the plastic around his new headset, and finally said, "Thanks, Blondie. I appreciate it."

"S'not a problem, pet." He took a deep breath and looked around his room. "Right then. I'm gonna go make sure the house is locked up properly. Be back in a tick," he said, heading towards the door.

Xander against all better judgment, hopped off his bed, asking, "You're gonna do what?"

He looked back over his shoulder, eyes glowing a strange silver in the light of the television. "Make sure the doors and windows are secure. Don't want any nasties going bump in the night, eh?"

He opened the door and headed downstairs, Xander hot on his heels. With him in tow, the older man checked the front door, all the living room windows, and then shut and locked the kitchen window, stopping only to hang his coat in the hallway closet. He checked the back door, every other window in the downstairs before he went back upstairs. Up there, he opened Buffy's door and was almost about to go in to shut the window in her room when Xander stopped him by whispering fiercely, "You're just going to go in there?"

Spike gave him an exasperated look, shrugging out of his hold. "Look here, Whelp. Mine and Buffy's rooms are easy access. The back porch's awning is under both our windows," he whispered. "If someone were to break into a room, ours'd be easiest. I'm just going to shut and lock the window, not snoop through her knickers."

It took a few seconds, but Xander finally nodded, understanding the logic even if he didn't like it. Spike did like he said, only shut and locked the room down before he was out and gently shutting the door. Then he was at Joyce's room, where he again, shut and locked the window. He skipped over Giles' room, which still had the light on. He paused when he passed it, however, asking, "Does the Watcher ever sleep?"

Xander shrugged, whispered back, "He's probably asleep now. He falls asleep reading a lot, so the lamp light is on all night."

"Right." He looked like he wanted to open the door, take a peek to make sure no window was open in Giles' room, but he stopped himself. "Alright, back to my room, Whelp."

Xander led the way into their shared room and sat down on his bed. It shocked the hell out of him when Spike took his seat next to him on his bed. "Let's see what's on the telly tonight, eh, pet?" he asked, grabbing up the remote from beside Xander's thigh but not touching.

That night they watched Nick at Nite for some reason. Two episodes of_ The Nanny_ and one of_ Diff'rent Strokes._ Xander slid down the bed, pulling his pillow under his head. Spike didn't move, just rearranged around Xander's form.

It was odd at first, and he felt tense and trying not to squirm around too much. The bed wasn't really that big to begin with, but Xander settled on his left side, his casted arm resting by his chest protectively and Spike's calves curled in the hollow behind his knees. They made it work.

Soon, he fell asleep to the sounds of_ Diff'rent Strokes_, and the feel of Spike's legs over his.


	19. Chapter 19

Spike woke alone, which wasn't odd, even since he had the Whelp in his room. Seemed that the young man pulled himself out of bed pretty early despite the fact he hadn't slept through the night once since he had arrived three days ago. Must have been one of those ingrained things from high school or whatnot.

Spike for the past two years had been going to college at UCLA, but since he had been working at_ Renegades_ just as long most of his classes had taken place after noon, as often as he could get away with, after one. Since Whelp didn't have that luxury, all high schools going eight to three, it made sense that he would wake up before Spike.

He pulled himself up from his bed, where he had eventually moved to after he was sure Xander was asleep, and rubbed at his hair tiredly. Glancing at his alarm clock, he saw it as almost noon. Everyone would probably be up by now. Joyce would likely be at her museum, and everyone else would be downstairs somewhere. He groaned tiredly as he hauled himself up.

He changed quickly and moved downstairs after a snappy detour to the loo where he did his morning regimen. The girls were all in the living room, watching some chick flick, but strangely Whelp was missing. He wandered into the kitchen next, at which point he found not only the Whelp but the Watcher as well. Xander was making some strange sandwich that had odd colors that most definitely didn't go on a sandwich of any kind. When he spotted Spike, he gave a strange half-smile, which warmed something in him.

Didn't stop him from demanding, "The hell is that, Whelp?"

"Xander's special sandwich. Honestly, you don't wish to know what the contents are. Every item is positively ghastly," Watcher said from his place at the table, where he calmly turned the page of his book. This was obviously something that happened fairly often. Xander must have been making strange concoctions left and right since he had been in the old man's care. "Xander and I took the liberty of buying some Weetabix when we were running some errands this morning. They're next to the, erm…Count Chocula."

The name of the cereal must have been a hardship for Giles to say, because he actually did have to pause and brace himself for it. However, that was quickly lost when his mind registered the blessed word, Weetabix. He flew over to the pantry in the blink of an eye, yanking it open to reveal… "You got…? Where?"

Xander shrugged, taking his plate to the table next to his watcher. "We found an international grocery store about twenty minutes away from here. We stopped by there after Giles went to the community college he's teaching summer classes at."

Spike snatched up the box, then dashed to get a bowl and some milk. "Oh yeah. Forgot you were gonna be teaching this summer, Watcher. When's that start?" He grabbed a spoon and sat on Xander's other side, taking a bite and muttering, "Tha'ks b'the way."

Watcher rolled his eyes, but the Whelp nodded in answer. After his brief bout of disgust, Watcher answered his question. "I start Monday, thank you for asking. It will last until August 17th, after which is when Xander, Willow and I will return to Sunnydale."

"Mm. Whatcha teachin'?"

"I'll be instructing Mythology and Folklore as well Western Civilization," Giles answered, finally taking his nose away from his book. "I'm actually quite looking forward to it. The subject matters are two of my favorites…and you have no appreciation of either," he finished with a somewhat bemused smile.

Spike smirked, not necessarily uninterested, however, he had no real investment in either of them. "Sorry, Watcher. I major in pre-law. Not much of humanities to do with law."

He saw both the other men perk up and Whelp asked incredulously and probably without much thought, "You go to college?"

The smirk grew. "May not look like much, Whelp, but I got a 3.8 GPA at UCLA."

Giles shook his head. "Forgive Xander. It's simply that with your…apparel…"

"I get it," he replied when he saw Xander shrink down a bit. "Not many folks 'round here take a glance at me and think 'scholar.' Still! 'M almost done with my Associates. Got a few more classes and then I can start with the fun stuff."

"What are you focusing in?" Giles asked, setting his book completely on the table. He slid his glasses off as well, giving them a quick polish.

Beside Spike, Whelp looked increasingly uncomfortable. However, he answered the older Englishman. "My Associates is just basic law, but for my Bachelor's I'm thinkin' criminal justice. Considered politics, but I really have no head for any of that shite."

Xander stood from the table, taking his plate to the sink. "I'm gonna go take a shower…"

He was walking passed the table again to exit through the door, when Spike reached for him, almost wrapping his fingers around his left arm before he simply ran his hand down the length of it, squeezing just a bit at the fingers. "Why don't you wait a mo'? I shared my educational goal with you. 'S your turn, by my estimation."

"My educational goal right now is simply to graduate," he groused, staring obstinately at the floor.

Spike nodded. "What classes ya takin'?"

His stare turned into a glower as he lifted his brown eyes onto Spike. "High school classes. I'm sure you took nearly the exact same ones," he snapped, trying to walk away again.

This time Spike did reach for his hand, tugging him back gently. The glare landed on him again, but he was happy to note that the Whelp didn't tense at the touch. He smiled widely at the younger man, and said, "I went to boarding school, Whelp. Don't have the foggiest what you Americans get up to."

Xander's glare mellowed, but didn't go away.

From where he was stationed, the Watcher spoke up. "Xander, tell him about your woodworking class. You do such wonderful work." He smiled proudly at his charge.

With a deep breath, he took his seat again and began speaking of 'shop class' and of the chest he had made for Buffy on her birthday.


	20. Chapter 20

Xander sat with Giles and Spike for a while before he actually attempted to follow through with his threat to take a shower. They spoke of many things, like classes they would take part in, stories they had encountered in the past, and eventually Spike and Giles spoke of England. Spike had been there long after Giles had left. The younger of the British didn't speak of why he had left or what he had done, but he did speak of London fondly, and Xander, though he hadn't been there, smiled, trying to imagine what they were talking about.

After their talk of London, Dawn had bounded in and made herself some Spagettios and sat down next to Spike. They had made small talk with her, asking what she was going to study in her Freshman year at high school. After a while though, Dawn tired of speaking of what she would take when school started again. She bounced a bit, staring at Spike, and asked, "You don't have to work tonight, right?"

He shook his head, leaning back in his chair to prop his feet up onto the chair across from him. "Nah. I still have Thursday's off."

Dawn wiggled in her chair. "Awesome. So what are you gonna do tonight?"

Spike shrugged. "Faith mentioned goin' to her apartment for a beer or two. Might take her up on the offer."

"Can I go with?" she asked, exuberant and hopeful.

Giles spoke up immediately, looking horror-struck. "Absolutely not. If there's beer…"

Dawn cut him off simply. "Giles, I don't drink. Spike takes me to Faith's apartment all the time. She keeps Pepsi for me." She then nodded happily, looking about ready to clap her hands like a little five-year-old.

Giles did not look pacified. "Who will drive you home, hm?"

There was a long drawn out silence in which neither Spike nor Dawn knew what to say. It was obvious that in previous months, no one had honestly thought about designated drivers, or if they had, Spike had—hopefully—waited to sober up.

Giles stared at them expectantly, brows drawn up. When after a few moment's Dawn started to deflate, Xander sat up a bit more and said, "I'll go with them; be the D.D."

Everyone in the kitchen looked shocked, like he had proclaimed that he was sleeping with an ex-demon or some such. Xander tried not to fidget, felt himself hold onto his cast just as long to keep from doing what he hated. He didn't know what the big deal was. Just because he didn't have a car or anything, Giles and Dawn, at the very least, knew he had a driver's license. It wasn't really that shocking, so he just stared at them as best he could with a 'what?' expression on his face. At last, Giles caved.

"Very well," he said. "You'll promise me that you won't drink anything alcoholic?"

Xander knew he didn't have the right to be upset about that, though he inexplicably was. Giles had only asked that because he knew for a fact Xander had drank and been inebriated on several occasions before. Hell, having alcoholics for parents, it must have come to him shortly after he realized Xander had been abused. Xander had been drinking since he was fourteen, and he had admitted that to his guardian. The news hadn't been received very well, the old librarian looking as if he wanted to hug him, or something equally as sympathizing.

Xander cleared his throat, remembering the last time he had felt the burn of rum running down his throat, what he had confessed to Jesse before he died in that car crash, the one that happened because they had been drinking. "No, G-man. I'll stay sober."

He nodded, let it drop. "Very well, then. I would request that you call when you arrive and when you are about to leave."

From the corner of his eye, he saw Dawn roll her own pretty blue eyes, but it must have escaped Giles attention. Xander was about to give his nod, but Spike said quickly, "Sorry, Watcher. Faith is pretty low key. She doesn't have much more than a telly with them old rabbit ear things."

Giles scoffed a little. "Yes, of course. As that is the case, I'll simply say, be safe."

"Sweet," Dawn said with a happy bounce in her seat. She looked between Xander and Spike, blue eyes glittering gleefully. She looked to be up to something devious. He remembered that look would always come just before she messed with all of Oz's amp settings until it was set to deafening or before she put regular cola in place of Buffy's diet or…or…she iced cornbread muffins and told everyone it was just crumbly yellow cake. That had been awful.

He eyed her wearily, suppressing a shiver. "O…kay then. I'm going to go take that shower before we go. Need to tell Buff and Wills that we'll be going too."

Dawn and Spike snorted simultaneously, but it was the older who said, "That shouldn't cause World War III here."

Sparing them a brief look of question, and noticing that Giles had done the same, he headed upstairs with those words snapping at his heels where the his friends had migrated to after their movie had finished. The bedroom door was shut, probably to ward against nosey sisters and live-in British men, but he figured it wasn't barred against him. They wouldn't be asleep. They didn't believe in naps the way he did.

With flourish, he pushed the door open with a grand gesture, saying, "What is Xander's lovely harem doing?"

Buffy smiled at him with wide honest green eyes. "Being all harem-like, with the sharing of gossip and doing each other's hair and generally being ignored by the sultan. Where is he anyway?" she asked sweetly, looking around Xander.

Pressing his left hand to his heart, he theatrically proclaimed, "You wound me, Buff!"

"I know," she said with a loving roll of her eyes and a gentle smile. "What do you need, Xand?"

He shrugged. "I was just on my way to the shower, but I wanted to stop and say I was gonna go with Dawn and Spike to see his friend…er…that Faith-girl later on."

"You WHAT?"

It looked like his shower was on delay for a little while longer.


	21. Chapter 21

Buffy gaped at Xander and he stared back at her with shock. Somewhere behind her she could kinda feel Willow's stare as well, but she wasn't sure who it was directed at and not sure she cared. Her head was buzzing, an entire swarm of buzzing little insects that…that buzzed!

Xander and Dawn…her best friend and her little sister…were going with Spike…the eternal bleached menace…to see Faith…that…that…grr! Her mind couldn't even give proper words for the brunette that she had once mistakenly called a friend. A_ good_ friend, at that! And Xander and Dawnie were going with_ Spike_ to see her!

Xander still stood in her doorway, looking a little uncomfortable and confused, his hand fiddling with his cast. She remembered a time where he would have been fidgeting with his flannel shirt, but they wouldn't fit comfortably over his cast. It stung her heart to see how much that stupid white thing seemed to throw things off and it made cruel thoughts emerge when she thought of his parents, when she thought of what she would do if any harm ever came to him again, and Buffy_ knew_, she just knew, that's what would happen if he hung around Spike and Faith.

He didn't seem to think so. After a few moments of shifting his weight from foot to foot, he said with a small shrug, "Well, yeah. Spike said he wanted to go see her, and Dawn said she wanted to go, but Spike was going to have a few beers and y'know, you shouldn't drink and drive, but Dawnie really wanted to go, so I kinda said I'd go and drive them home when Faith went to work…" He gave a nervous giggle. "It's no big."

"Yes, big! Big big_. Huge_ big, even!" she countered immediately. "Xander, Spike and Faith are bad news and I'm not really sure you and Dawn should be going. I mean…" she floundered, knowing that they didn't know much about the Faith situation, any part of it really. She honestly didn't want to try to explain it either, because that was big hurt and betrayal which she could handle well on her own. "You don't really know what they're like. Spike is all creepy and kinda evil, and Faith…well_ Faith_, she's definitely not the kind to just hang out. You'd just end up regretting it."

When he didn't say anything, looking cowed and a little unhappy with her proclamation, she went on. "Why don't you and Dawn stay in with Willow and me? We were thinking of making brownies and cookies and I could call mom real quick before she gets home and she'll get some Twinkies and some of those cheesy things we like so much. It'll be fun, and I'm sure it'll be much less stressful than going out…"

…That was the wrong thing to say…

She could see his entire body go rigid just from the mention of stress. It hadn't been Buffy's intention to allude to the scene two nights ago, but allude she had. She had been trying to just put it behind them and so far had done a good job of not even mentioning what they'd all had for dinner that night even. It was all out the window now.

So much for tact, she thought to herself.

"It's not stress, Buffy," Xander said with a false calm that usually belied how upset he was even more than when he was lashing out. "That was just a once in a blue moon sensory overload. I'm fine and I already told Dawn that I would drive them both. Giles is even fine with it."

Her eyes? Bugging out of her head! "_Giles_ said it was okay for you to take my sister to a drinking party?"

"No!" Xander looked absolutely affronted. "No, it's not a party and it's not like they'll be drunk, Buffy." She could see some of the doubt in his eyes though. "He said a few beers and Faith has to go to work. It's not like she can go drunk, right?"

"Xander, both Spike and Faith work at a_ nightclub_! Who knows what the rules are for bouncers there! And who knows who else Faith will invite. She kinda likes her parties if you hadn't guessed just by looking at her! I know she's pretty, alright, and I_ know_ guys are attracted to her," she said the last part with a depreciative laugh, "but she's not that great. Trust me."

Xander gave his own laugh, this one of disbelief. "That's what you think this is about? You think I'm going out because I think she's attractive?"

"Well, what else could it be?" she shouted back, truly frustrated with her friend. "It isn't Dawn, because I know if you were thinking about it clearly, you wouldn't allow her within ten feet of a place with alcohol. And Spike…he's Spike. He's a pain in the ass! Who are you doing it for, if not her?"

"If it was her that I was going for, and trust me, it's_ not_! But if it was, do you think I'm that shallow? Dawn said she had gone before with him, I just figured this way it would be safer for everyone involved, y'know? 'Cause I'm Mr. Safe Guy?"

They were both getting worked up and on the verge of yelling at each other, so before Xander could continue, she said, "Look, Xander, I didn't mean it that way. It's just I know these two better than you. They are bad news. I just don't want you to get hurt."

He stared at her with his sweet, innocent brown eyes and shook his head. "It's a bit late for that, don't ya think, Buff?" He waved his right arm jerkily, dismissively. Her heart snapped in half a little. "I'm going to take a shower, and then I'm going to take Dawn and Bleach boy to that Faith-girl's house. I'll see you later tonight."

He was out of the room before she could do anything else.

She sat back on her bed, saw Willow behind her just staring at the door with wide grey-green eyes and a shattered countenance that must have rivaled her own. When their eyes met, Buffy sighed and scooted closer to Willow, trying to both give and gather comfort after that tense meeting.

"Is that normal, too…after…?" she trailed off, not wanting to bring up the obvious elephant that was in every room of the house.

Willow shook her head, still looking shell-shocked. Her mouth open and closed a few times. "I don't know what that was, but it was very un-Xander." She closed her mouth with a pout on her face as she stared at Buffy, then slowly she let her mouth fall shut. "I don't want this to sound mean or anything, and I-I don't want to imply that this has anything to do with you or Dawnie, but maybe it's the stress o-of y'know, being in a new place. My mom says trauma can make new situations kind of, well, she says they can exacerbate the problem and put strain on relationships because it's all wonky in their head and in their surroundings. No real comfort mechanism…"

Buffy started pouting too. "You think that's it? You think being here in L.A. is doing this to him?"

She shrugged. "I'm not totally positive, but it could be. Probably not. It's probably something else but…maybe?"

The blond sagged. "Maybe we could talk to Giles or something."

Willow looked dubious, but didn't protest.


	22. Chapter 22

The Whelp looked right upset when he came back down the stairs, damp and scrubbing at his hair irately with the towel in his left hand. It took a fair bit of self-control not to smirk and say, 'told you so,' but he supposed that the look must've been on his face because he received a very annoyed glare for his efforts to keep silent. He didn't take it too personally. Poor blighter probably hadn't expected whatever spectacular show Buffy had given him; he hadn't hear much of it, but he had heard elevated voices for a few seconds and knew it had taken all of Watcher's admirable willpower not to go play 'daddy'.

That had probably had something to do with Niblet's well placed ramblings. Every time the old man had even glanced towards the door, she had hopped into some well placed stories, and god help both the Englishmen, about boys. Giles had looked torn between offering sound advice to Dawn about relationship drama at_ twelve_ and hopping upstairs to check on his older ducklings. But he had to hand it to the Bit. She was damn good at distraction.

She was writing in her diary when Xander returned downstairs, dressed and ready to meet the world. She just glanced up at him, a question lingering in her sweet blue eyes.

Whelp only detoured to the laundry room to throw his soggy towel in the wash then he was back, still looking irritated but determined. "You guys ready?" he asked.

Bit smiled joyfully, snapping her diary shut and shoving her pen in the spine as she hopped up. "Ready and willing!" she answered, hopping on the balls of her feet as she shifted her gaze towards Spike, who already had his duster over his shoulders.

He gave a short nod. "I just gotta tell Giles, and we're on our way."

That small errand took a few seconds longer than what would be considered normal, but neither he nor Niblet complained, knowing that Giles would be curious about the raised voices.

After they were in the car, Spike made an effort to point out landmarks, not that he thought Whelp would need them, because he definitely didn't plan to get pissed tonight, but just in case, he wanted Xander to know his way back. He knew he fell short a few times, because the young girl in the back seat was going ninety to nothing in the backseat, talking about whatever crossed her mind, but thankfully leaving out any mention of little pissants that may have had their eyes on her.

At Faith's, Xander gave a soft exhale. "You weren't kidding about her living low key, were ya?" he asked looking at the dingy rundown apartment building that Faith called her home.

Spike looked at it through the windshield and gave a shrug. "Believe it or not, s'actually better than her last hovel. Last one was not only depressing but in the immoral side o' town. Wouldn'ta taken Bit or you there if I'd been given a million to do it."

"That's all very sweet and stuff, but you already turned the car off and it's hotter than the hinges of hell in here," Dawn called from the backseat, throwing her door open and ignoring Xander's, "Language!" as the door slammed behind her.

He made to follow her, seeming to realize that it was actually rather oppressive in the De Soto, but Spike stopped him with a brief touch to his thigh. It caused Whelp to flinch, but Spike hoped that it was more to do with the tension the boy accumulated when he was talking to Buffy, rather than him being thrown back to square one.

When he had Xander's shadowed gaze on him, he said, "Whatever Buffy said, don't let it get to ya. Kay, pet? Likely it's more to do with me an' Faith than anythin' else."

He nodded, looked like he may ask a question, but stopped.

Spike gave his leg an innocent rub with his thumb and the boy relaxed somewhat until Niblet tapped against the window with an impatient look on her face.

"Are you coming?" she shouted, her voice distorted by the glass.

He gave Whelp a tiny smirk before pulling his hand away from the boy's thigh and hopping out of the car.

When they came to the door of her apartment, Spike opened the door without knocking, earning an alarmed look from Whelp, although Bit just pranced in with her sleek hair fluttering behind her. The smirk that had been on his face grew as he gestured for Xander to enter before him.

When he was all the way inside, he shut the door with a slam.

It was all anyone could get out, before Faith turned the corner of a little wall separating her room from the rest of the apartment. She held a soda bottle in her hand and a bottle of something that looked like toilet cleaner in her hands and she spoke while reading the back of it. "Hey, just grab yourself a beer. I've got some shit to take care of before I—Oh hey, you didn't say you'd bring an audience," she said as she finally looked up to notice Whelp and Bit.

Spike shrugged, rolling his duster off his shoulders and throwing it over the back of one of her dilapidated chairs. "Didn't know I would be 'til about an hour and half ago."

Faith smiled, looking pleased instead of dangerous, despite the glint in her black eyes. "Well, hot damn! This is some good shit! I haven't seen Dawn in ages, not to mention you brought the eye-candy with you."

At her veracious once-over, Xander shifted a bit, lifting his hand up and smiling a little uncomfortably. Her smile turned intrigued as her gaze went between everyone in the room, but she didn't mention anything that was going on in her little head as she took a seat at her dilapidated table, putting the empty Pepsi bottle and toilet bowl cleaner on the table and grabbing for the aluminum foil that already rested there.

"Like I was saying," she said, as she pulled out a sheet of the foil. "Help yourself to whatever's in the fridge. I've got a dipshit neighbor to set straight before I join you." She began rolling the silver wrap into little balls, glancing up at them with that same glimmer in her eyes. "Dawn, wanna learn how to make an Amish bomb?"

Niblet's eyes lit up and before Xander could say anything, she exclaimed, "Oh, yeah!"

Whelp whipped his head around so fast, Spike was shocked he didn't get whiplash.

When it looked like the boy was going to make a loud objection, Spike waved at him. "Better she learn from somebody knows what she's doing than some of the hacks at that school o' hers." He gave Whelp's sleeve a resolute tug towards the kitchen area. "C'mon. S'get some drinks set up 'round here."

"Grab me a Pepsi," Bit demanded, her eyes glued to the visual lesson before her.

Spike scoffed. "Pushy little nit!" he muttered even as he hand wrapped around Whelp's bicep to pull him towards the cooler.


	23. Chapter 23

"All right! And that's it," Faith exclaimed taking her newly made bomb towards the door. It was already smoking but she left the cap loose so some of the pressure could escape until she was ready to toss it towards the door of her unassuming neighbor. She smiled at the concoction happily, and Xander heard her mutter, "Should teach that little fucker."

She stepped outside onto her 'porch' and, after tightening the lid down, heaved it as far as she could with a small grunt of exertion. "Don't fucking hold a knife to me again, asshole!" she yelled.

With that she stepped back inside, a small spring in her step.

Xander opened his mouth to ask, because really? Someone held a knife to this chick? That just screamed psycho and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to meet the person who would try to threaten her. However, when his lips parted, she held up her hand, smile still on her face.

"Gotta wait for it, stud."

The tiny apartment was dead silent for the next minute and then…

BANG!

A loud explosion went off, causing him to jump and almost spill his Pepsi all over Spike's lap.

Through the thin walls, he could hear some stir from people around, wanting to know what the noise was, overall though, no one seemed too inclined to go check. He almost wanted to glance out the window to see if anyone cared enough to see what had caused such a loud noise was, but didn't think he was supposed to considering that the other three were just rearranging on in their seats.

He tried to relax back into the couch, but kept waiting for sirens or something as Faith and Spike went into a small conversation like this was an everyday event. Dawn didn't even seem fazed! Dawn should at least look somewhat nervous, maybe even a bit apprehensive!

But no.

She, too, sat in her chair, tuning into the conversation buzzing between the two leather clad rebels with a look of intense interest.

Xander almost felt like he was in the Twilight Zone and kinda felt that maybe Buffy could have been right, but then Spike pressed his leg against his in an attempt to get more comfortable. To be honest, it didn't take away all of his nerves at the fact that crazy-Faith had just thrown a makeshift bomb at her neighbor's door, but it grounded him somewhat.

"So, what're ya working tonight?" Spike asked after he had adjusted.

Suddenly able to tune in again, Xander wondered what they were talking about. He knew that they worked at a nightclub, but he was suddenly very intrigued as to what exactly they did at the nightclub. Were they dancers or bouncers or in a band…? He thought of the older man next to him doing any of those and he had to suppress a shudder before he locked_ all_ of those images into the Box.

Faith rolled her eyes and went to the little kitchen to grab a beer, presumably. "I'm working V.I.P." she said with an air of disgust inking through her words. She came back into the main area, beer and cigarettes in her hands, and took her seat opposite Xander and Spike on the floor. "I gotta tell you how much I am not looking forward to that."

Spike nodded sedately. "Yeah, put a bunch of poofters in a V.I.P. room and suddenly they think they're Cleopatra or some shite. There's a dick measuring contest that turns into a bad porno, for ya." He took a sip of his own beer and then motioned at her to give him a smoke.

And then he was suddenly back in Twilight Zone, because Dawn asked without batting an eyelash at the language Spike had just used, "I thought you liked anything better than bartending?"

"Oh, tha's the truth," Spike said around his cigarette. "Chance for a good brawl is always better than servin' Sex on the Beach's to a bunch o' underage twinks, but gotta say there ain't a lot to be done up in the 'vip' room, 'less you wanna try hauling a glittering fairy from a repressed tightwad."

Xander was trying to keep up, but he wasn't sure he was ready to believe what they were talking about. He had ideas about Spike; thought he could guess some of the places that Faith could work; and Buffy had said they worked at a nightclub…but…

"What kinda club do you work at?" he asked turning his head to look at Spike curiously.

"Gay club, stud," Faith smiled lecherously. "That's where all the fun is. I'm surprised B didn't mention that."

Xander shifted a little under the stares of everyone else in the room. Like they were waiting for him to freak. He didn't really know why. Even with the Box, he wasn't…y'know, that bad where he ran around bashing anyone who had the same inclinations as him because he thought he was dirty. Not that he thought Dawn or Faith knew, but Spike obviously,_ very_ obviously, had caught on.

He cleared his throat a little, pressed his thigh tighter against Spike's and said, "Strangely, she left_ that_ part out."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "She always leaves the weirdest parts out."

Faith and Spike gave each other a significant glance before Faith pulled out a cigarette too. "I'll vouch for that," she said, flicking her lighter irritably.

Xander had a feeling he was missing something big, but he didn't dare ask. Instead, he took a deep breath, gathering up his nerves. "So…what do you normally do at the club?"

Spike and she looked impressed, and then Faith laughed, letting out a gust of smoke. "Spike and I usually guard front entrance. Lotsa rabble-rousers out there looking to give the good clients shit for who they like doing the horizontal dance with. Spike and I get a kick out of beating them down."

He wasn't surprised, but didn't say as much.

She gave him an appraising stare, her eyes calculating in a way that was somewhat close to Dawn's if a little more evil. "You should come out there next week. Spike and I both managed to get Thursday off. Be a good time," she offered.

Surprisingly, he wasn't that opposed to it. He thought it actually sounded kind of fun. He could go there and relax with Spike and her and watch everyone being silly and horny. He tapped his cast, briefly giving that a quick thought, wondering if someone in a cast should be around so many drunk people. However, the idea of being around these two outweighed that risk.

He nodded slowly. "I could be persuaded to go."

He glanced around the room, noting three very satisfied faces.

Dawn's blue eyes caught his, and that plotting glimmer was in her eyes again, but it didn't make Xander as uncomfortable as he thought it could have.


End file.
